Those Who Hunt
by Trick N. Zwei
Summary: Some years after Ciri had saved the world from the White Frost, monsters have spread throughout thanks to the Conjunction of Spheres from that time. Witcher work has never been better. Monsters abound in every city, every village, every corner of the world. At such a busy time with work aplenty, three witchers go to search for a woman with ashen hair...
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own neither Bloodborne or The Witcher. This work is merely fanfiction, and as such, earns me no income whatsoever. Please don't sue me, I'm really poor.**

 **So here is another story that popped up in my head a few days ago. I mostly got inspired seeing those figurines from Prime 1 studios. I saw them at Comic-con once. Damn are they large and expensive. I didn't know they made ones for The Witcher and Bloodborne. You guys should check them out. They got a really good piece with Lady Maria of the Astral Clocktower. I'm not telling you to buy it though. It's hella damn expensive. If I was rich I'd buy like the entire Witcher statues. They have Triss! And I heard that Ciri and Yenneffer were next in line. I got no clue why Eredin got released before the girls, but I suppose they needed to balance the male to female ratio.**

 **So many, so much want. Damn my poorness.**

 **Also, as an FYI, I haven't read any but the first book of The Witcher series. This story will most likely focus from the lore I remember from the video game series. I might, _might_ use some stuff from the books. The setting is some years past the original ending of the game, DLC and all.**

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The witcher gazed upon the familiar village he had not seen for several years. He had no reason to return here. He had spent much of his time tending to contracts further south of the Northern realms since his acquisition of Corvo Bianco, the vineyard awarded to him by the duchess of Toussaint. Aside from the occasional problematic contracts, he and his beloved Yennefer had greatly enjoyed their time together there. The only times he ventured north were to visit Kaer Morhen to maintain the worn-down old witcher fortress.

However, he was here now. Back again at White Orchard.

"Oh, man. I can already tell how cheap this place pays."

Lambert frowned at the village at Geralt's side.

"Not that bad," said Eskel on the other side of Geralt. They were all on horseback watching the village from top of a hill overlooking down. "It's better than most places."

"Were not here for work," said Geralt.

"Oh really?" said Lambert. "Must be nice to be a witcher that owns his own vineyard. It's too bad not all us witchers can get so rich sitting on their asses all day. You must find it hard to get out of bed every day. Especially sharing one with a sorceress as nice as Yen."

Geralt didn't mind his fellow witcher's sarcasm. It was refreshing in a way. Besides, he knew well how Lambert had been doing recently.

"Uh-huh," he nodded, "And how's Keira?"

"She-! I-! You-!" Lambert looked like a fish out of water. "Shut up!" he finally said in a frown.

The two had come a long way since they first fought together at Kaer Morhen against the Wild Hunt. Yenneffer had more than gladly told Geralt of the various adventures and romances Keira had been sharing with her about their journey together since then. Some of it quite sordid in detail that Keira seemed quite eager to express.

"Nice," smiled Eskel. It was rare to see Lambert so lost for words.

Their horses cantered down the hill to approach the village. The people out on the fields noticed them from afar, no doubt their twin swords of silver and steel were well recognizable to them. There were a few among them that scattered and ran back to the village. A witcher was an uncommon sight. Only when monsters are aplenty would one expect a visit from a witcher.

To see three together?

The calm village had now tensed at hearing the news. Villagers gossiped to one another of any monsters that had crept up recently to attract the attention of three witchers. For why else would witchers come to visit a village like theirs?

Geralt sighed as Roach, his ever loyal mount, stopped at the village inn.

"Okay, what's wrong?" inquired Lambert. "What did you do here?"

"What do you mean by that?" he said. "I just sighed."

"No, you didn't." Lambert looked at him as if he already knew. "You sighed because you just remembered you did something here that you probably shouldn't have. What was it? Was it really bad? Did you sleep with the innkeep's daughter or something? Please tell me you didn't. My ass is sore from being on the road for so long, Geralt. Please tell me we're not going to have to camp out again. I just want a decent hot meal and a roof over my head after traveling for weeks with nothing but the occasional monster on our way and the company of brawny, unattractive men."

"Someone's grown spoiled," said Eskel. "I didn't realize life on the path had ever been so cushy."

"Can we please just drop the fact with Keira?" complained Lambert. He knew what Eskel was hinting at. "Keira is one sorceress. Count that? One. Geralt had been with more sorceress than I go through my underwear in a week. Why does everyone keep bringing it up?"

"Maybe because it's you?" said Geralt.

"Ha-hah-ha," laughed Lambert in sarcasm. "I am truly honored. Come on, let's just get this over with."

It didn't take long before Lambert found out the answer if they would be welcome or not. Elsa, the proprietor of the inn, screamed and howled at them to leave as soon as she saw Geralt's face. Geralt had hoped that, with the time that's passed, the old woman would have realized he had only meant to help back then. He actually hoped that she might've forgotten him altogether.

She apparently had done neither.

"It was an unavoidable circumstance," said Geralt as Lambert glared at him after being forced to leave the inn by the hysterical innkeep.

Thankfully—mostly thankfully that Lambert wasn't going to be so pissy—they weren't going to have to camp out again. A local villager that Geralt had saved once before had offered to let them stay at his home for their stay.

"Really sorry for the way Elsa treated ye there, Master witcher," said Bram as he served the witchers stew from his pot. "I've tried to reason with her all this time, but I'm afraid that she's still quite scared of you.

"I can understand, Bram," said Geralt. "It happens a lot more than I care to admit."

"Like not admitting it just a while ago," mumbled Lambert, gulping down his drink.

"I'm just glad that not all the people I save see me that way."

Bram was Elsa's cousin that he had saved on his way to White Orchard with Vesemir. It was good that the witcher had made time to save the poor merchant. It seemed to have paid off that he had never charged a fee to save the man's life.

"So what brings ye back here to White Orchard, Master witcher," said Bram. "You and yer fellows got the whole village astir. They be wondering what sorts of monsters are here to get the attention of three of yer folk. Well, not that there are many monsters left here nowadays."

Lambert and Eskel stopped eating and drinking for now as they and Geralt briefly shared a look.

"I'm looking for a woman," said Geralt.

"Ye still be lookin' for that lady of yours from before?" said Bram. "Thought you would have found her by now, or at least know where she is."

"Different one," said Geralt with a smile. "Found the one from before. She's doing fine now. Who we're looking for now is a woman with ashen hair."

The witcher felt the irony of that, as he too had switched from finding his beloved Yenneffer to Ciri soon after leaving White Orchard. This whole thing was giving him all sorts of déjà vu.

"Ashen hair…" Bram knotted his eyebrows. "Pale skin wearing foreign clothing?"

"You've seen her?" asked Lambert. "You've actually seen this woman? She's real?"

"A few times actually," nodded Bram. His voice was cautious and low. "As real as you sitting in front of me, aye. Though she was pale enough to mistake for a ghost. A foreigner, no doubt. I maybe poor merchant but a merchant I still am nonetheless. I've never seen anyone wear such strange garb in all my trades. I've even traded with some Skelligers."

"Where is she?" said Geralt.

The witchers were now obviously paying attention to every word coming out of Bram's mouth. The candle at their table flickered from a draft. The winds outside seemed particularly strong that evening.

"She left about a week ago for the Pontar, last I saw."

Lambert cursed. "A week ago! We could have been here before that if it wasn't for that damn Leshen getting us lost in those woods!"

Geralt held up his hand to silence him.

"Do you know anything about her?" he asked Bram. "Can you tell us what you know? It's very important that you tell us what you can about this woman. All the details. Leave nothing out."

"I'll tell ye what I can," nodded Bram.

The merchant soon recounted the events of what he knew about the woman arriving at their village. The woman had arrived several months after the winter harvest, amidst a cloudy, darkened sky. The villagers were wary of her at first. She had smooth porcelain like skin, ashen hair, and a beautiful fair face that seemed so perfect, it didn't seem natural. In addition to that, she was a foreigner none in the village had ever seen, nor even heard of before.

While they were somewhat uneasy of her appearance, the villagers still welcomed her and gave her a hut to stay. The people had thought her a noble by the quality of her elaborate clothing and the way she carried herself. Nothing good came out of mistreating a noble. That had been something deeply ingrained to peasants everywhere in the world. Nobles could have whole villages wiped from the map on a single whim, and that's no folk tale.

"When first she came, I thought her to be a quiet woman," recalled Bram. "Soft-spoken. Kept to herself mostly. Never bothered none of the villagers. I'd always thought nobles would be more uptight and high and mighty, but she was really just different, master witchers. Not a single complaint from the meals we offered her, even when we couldn't spare any meat several times. Not that she ate all that much, now that I think about it."

"And the monsters?" said Eskel.

The rumor that brought them here was that of an ashen haired woman hunting monsters. It's a long story on how Geralt had come about that rumor. Right now, there were other important matters.

"Aye," Bram nodded. "The monsters. Nekkers mostly. We'd thought Master Geralt had rid us of them for good last he was 'round these parts, but there's been more than ever since that day of clouds and storms. A terrible day truly that was."

Geralt lowered his head. It was the Conjunction of Spheres when Ciri had saved the world from the White Frost. The monsters that he and his fellow witchers had once hunted down to the brink of extinction had surged in numbers thanks to that. It's been terrible for the normal folk, but the witcher contracts have been popping up just about everywhere. Anywhere they go, a contract for a beast is up on the local board. It's gotten to the point that seeing a witcher no longer illicit much more than a sigh of relief compared to the utter disdain and fear they once received.

There was some part of Geralt that felt responsible for it, even though their situation is much better than facing the White Frost. Lambert just felt smug and enjoyed their newfound popularity. It used to be that people would haggle for even a single crown for the price of an Archgriffin. Nowadays? Some would pay a pouch full just for a single nekker without a single word of haggling. People were even fighting over a witcher's attention. They would give them the best rooms, the best food, and the best entertainment just to get one to stay longer. It's one of the reasons Lambert got spoiled.

"No one knows why the nekkers ventured so far from their nests," said Bram. "Might be that they've grown in numbers too much. It's possible that an even fiercer monster drove them off as well. All we knows is that they attacked our village en masse."

"It's happened to more than a few villages," agreed Eskel. "Not many were so lucky to survive."

"And blessed be our luck had turned," nodded Bram. "If not for the noble lady, I fear I wouldn't be here now to speak with ye. True, we lost some people, yet none might have survived if not for that lady coming to our aid."

"She carried a weapon with her?" asked Lambert. "Or are you going to tell us she used magic or bare-fisted the annoying little shits to death?"

"Oh, that she did." Bram poured himself a warm drink, and took a sip. "She had at her side a crafted saber of fine make, just the sheath itself might've cost more than the entire village. Pretty and nice to look at, you see? Though we thought it at first no more than decoration. The lady looked so delicate, we had no notion that she would be so capable of using it." The merchant closed his eyes as he seemed to recall the memory. "Such masterful strokes… She'd cut down the nekkers with ease. As if she'd have easily been cutting down wheats in the field. No magic as far as I know, master witchers. Though the lads who got a better view swore that she moved faster than the wind at times, fading in and out of sight, leaving severed bodies of nekkers all over."

Geralt had started rubbing his witcher medallion. If there was a hint of magic, he was sure it would pick up its presence.

"She left after that?" he asked.

"No, sir." Bram shook his head. "That was more than several months ago. The lady stayed here for a while after that happened. Not that the village folk were eager to drive her away. The lady had inquired us of whatever forms of beasts that were ailing our poor village. She was eager to get rid of them, you see? 'Course we begged her not to put herself in harm's way. Folk were still afeard that if some harm may come to her, some other nobles might accuse us of treachery."

"True that." Lambert raised his cup.

In all their time on the path, the witchers had seen such a thing happen more than once before. Pompous and power drunk nobles spreading their woes and problems on the innocent. Not many nobles cared of the people below them. The rich and powerful tended to take out their stress by stepping on those beneath them.

"Seeing as you're all still here, I'm assuming no one came looking for her then?" asked Geralt.

"None, master," answered Bram. "Not until you three arrived."

"Good," grunted Eskel. "Less people involved, the better."

It was a sentiment Geralt shared immensely.

"Seemed our fears were for naught," continued Bram. "The lady came back time and time again, with nothing but the blood of the monsters she slew on her. The villagers were glad to have her here. Never asked for coin either, only took it after we offered it to her. Even then, she used it to pay for meals for the poorer villagers."

"Sounds like a saint," sneered Lambert.

"Some folk say that she be Melitele herself," nodded Bram seriously. "There be some in the village who think she be a goddess. You can see some praying to her at times nowadays, calling out her name. It's certainly better than waiting for a wit—uh, mercenaries to come along."

"Damn saints taking our jobs," snickered Lambert. "I'm kidding. We're up to our necks in contracts lately. I'd be glad to have a little less work. Never thought I'd see the day where I missed having less coin in my pouch. You know I had to open up an account for the first time ever at Vivaldi's?"

"How times have changed." Geralt rolled his eyes.

He motioned for Bram to continue.

"Anyways, the village grew accustomed to going to the lady if monsters were to be spotted somewhere. She'd go out as soon as news of it reached her. She'd make quick work of them, that she did. She'd slain nekkers, drowners, arachas, and even a chort that had eaten our village's prized cow."

"Must've been a really good cow," said Geralt.

"That she was," nodded Bram, a far off look in his eyes. "Pride of our village, in fact. Suppose it would have been taken by some fiend eventually."

"Think you would have made good money in the cow business, Geralt?" smiled Lambert. "Heard it was pretty easy money, all things considered."

"Nah," Geralt shook his head. "I've got enough problems getting taxed at Corvo Bianco. Yen's already nagging me about getting our taxes done this year. I don't need to add Temeria's complicated tax system into the mix."

"No one escapes the tax man," agreed Eskel.

Taxes seemed to be universally loathed by the rich and poor alike. Even witchers—even ones taciturn like Eskel—can't help their annoyance from showing up on their faces at the thought of getting taxed of their gains.

"The lady was strong as she was kind," continued Bram. "She tended to our sick and wounded whenever she weren't slaying monsters. The village folk were grateful. Even those misshapen from disease and accidents, she nay shied away. She held their hands much the same as anyone else's, tainted as they were. She soothed their fears and gave them hope. A truly noble lady."

"Ask her where she came from?" said Geralt.

"Aye. A place none in the village ever heard of." Bram scratched his head as he remembered. "She hails from a very strangely named place. Might be somewhere past the Great Sea or far yonder the Blue Mountains."

After Bram had told them as much as he knew of the woman they were trying to find, the merchant left them to seek lodging at his cousin's inn. His house was cramped enough as it is by himself, so he had offered to leave them be. It was only for a single night, and he trusted Geralt enough to feel safe that the witcher and his companions would not rob him or damage his home.

"What do you think?" said Geralt as he laid in his cot.

"What am I supposed to think?" answered Lambert, he taking the merchant's bed after winning through a round of gwent. "That the woman we're supposed to find is a saint that helps people from the goodness of her heart? That this same woman can cut down monsters without so much as a silver sword? Or the fact that she, from the repeated hinting of our host, might be a goddess descended from the heavens?"

"No," simply stated Eskel, staring at the straw roof above their heads. "Gods don't bother slumming it with mortals."

"At least we know more than we did before," said Geralt.

"We didn't know shit from before," countered Lambert. "All we knew was that an ashen haired woman was slaying monsters left and right here. Everything else came out of the mouth of that shifty elf of yours. I didn't trust that guy way back during the Wild Hunt, and I still don't trust him now."

"I don't either," said Geralt. "But I do trust Ciri and Yen. If they said what Avallac'h said could be true, then I'm inclined to believe him. Didn't Keira verified it herself?"

Lambert grumbled to himself. Seems that Keira had indeed told him about it herself.

"And you?" he directed his annoyance at Eskel. "You just going along with that?"

"I don't got no sorceress to ask," pointed out Eskel. "Unlike you two. Still, if Wolf thinks it might be true, then I'm good with that."

Lambert sighed, turning over and putting out the candlelight. "I give up. Just wake me when we're leaving."

Come close to the break of dawn, the witchers were already mounting their horses in front of Bram's hut. The merchant was kind enough to sell them provisions for their journey to the Pontar.

"Mandrake Cordial." Geralt held up the dark bottle from the rest of the provisions. "Nice. Wasn't expecting you to have it."

"Not many buy it, but I thought a witcher might get some use out of it," smiled Bram.

"Alright, alright," yawned Lambert. "Thanks for everything yada yada yada—Let's get a move on before the sun shines. I'd hate to see your ugly mugs while I'm still half-asleep."

"Sorry I ain't pretty enough to kiss you good morning," smirked Eskel.

"Will you just drop it!"

The three witchers left White Orchard in peace. As Bram had said, there wasn't much work left to be done there for a witcher. Whoever the woman was, saint, goddess, or anything else, she did make sure to clean the place of monsters during her stay there. Quite amazing for several months work.

"Any idea what we're going to do when we catch up to her?" said Eskel after riding for a while.

"Politely ask her to get in our sack so that we can take her back to a shifty, possibly crazy elf's cave who has who knows what kinds of weird plans for her?" offered Lambert.

"How about we start with introductions?" said Geralt.

It was a good idea. People alike, even the really vicious ones, tend to go ahead with introductions. For some reason, the nastier a person was, the longer his self-introduction would be. They'd stray off into a monologue sharing their hopes and dreams. Not that Geralt minded. It usually meant he got some time to plan an escape or attack.

"Geralt of Rivia!" Lambert pretended to bow on his horse. "White Wolf, Gwynblied, witcher, Butcher of Blaviken, and producer of fine wines, my lady. Might I politely ask that you get in this sack—Ow!"

"Be serious." Eskel crushed one of the hard nuts in his palm and ate it.

"Hard to be being half-awake," complained Lambert, rubbing the sore spot on his head.

"Want a few more to wake you up then?"

"Fine, fine!" Lambert frowned at the cracking nuts in Eskel's hand. "Introductions it is. How do we even address her? We're not even sure if she's peasant, noble, or even royalty."

"Maria…?" murmured Geralt. "Lady Maria… of the Astral Clocktower."

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 **A/N:**

 **Sorry if you're disappointed you didn't get to see Maria appear yet. This is just an introductory chapter. Hope people enjoyed it still.**

 **I'm going to say that don't expect frequent updates. While I do like my idea for this fic, I got so many other fics I'm working on already. I'd advise cautious enthusiasm. While the quality is nice, it took me several days to come out with something that's not even 4k words long.**

 **Anyways, I hope people read and review. If you see any grammar or spelling mistakes, please do inform me.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I own neither Bloodborne or The Witcher. This work is merely fanfiction, and as such, earns me no income whatsoever. Please don't sue me, I'm really poor.**

 **Here is a nice big update. I'll go over and fix through any problems with it later on. It took me a while to write it this down, and I just pretty much want it out here now.**

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"Geralt of Rivia!" The Bloody Baron raised his cup. "I thought I might never see you again, witcher! You look like you haven't changed one bit."

Geralt and his companions had arrived at Crow's Perch to a warm welcome. While it was true that he had done the baron a favor a long time ago, he didn't think he would have already returned from the Blue Mountains. Honestly, he wasn't so sure the baron would have returned at all.

Phillip Strenger, more commonly referred to as the Bloody Baron, was a former Temerian soldier who had declared his loyalty to Nilfgaard after realizing that resisting them was futile in the Third Northern War. The Nilfgaardian emperor had since appointed Strenger authority over Velen.

"It's nice to see you too, baron," said Geralt, raising his cup as well to meet his. "You've… uh, you've certainly gotten thin since we last saw each other."

Last Geralt remembered of him, the baron was rather rotund for a former soldier. No doubt he'd enjoy the benefits of his newfound rule before the witcher and he had met.

"Noticed that have ya?" The baron laughed as he patted his stomach. "Might be because I never touched another bottle of drink, but also moving up and down mountains will do that to you. By Melitele's tits, witcher, I lost count how many times we had to forage for berries and such just so we had somethin' to nibble on." He drank heartily from his cup. "Blasted monsters everywhere as well. I haven't moved that much even during my time in the war. It's no wonder I lost a bit of weight."

"Noticed the hanging corpses on the way here as well," said Geralt after drinking from his cup.

When Geralt and his company came into the region, many hanged men were hung from the trees. There wasn't an hour past down the road did they fail to see a man's body hanging off his feet with a rope on his neck. Geralt had heard that the situation in Velen was rather bleak after the war, but he really didn't think that the baron had anything to do with it. After all, he was supposed to have been at the Blue Mountains during the time.

The baron didn't seem bothered much by that as he tore off a leg from the roasted turkey at their table.

"A sign of progress, witcher," said the baron through a mouthful of turkey, pointing the leg at Geralt. "Those men had what's coming to them. Just wish it had happened sooner. Maybe then I wouldn't have as much to worry about."

"Hanging men as a sign of progress doesn't seem to be a very efficient way of measuring," said Lambert. He sat next to Geralt, cautiously eyeing the baron as he ate. "Maybe conducting a survey would yield better results? Just a suggestion."

"Well, you can take that suggestion and shove it up your arse!" answered the baron. "Hanging is more than those filthy bastards deserved for what they'd done. Can you believe that the people had even said that I'd gotten soft since my time away? Me? The ploughing Bloody Baron of all people!"

"No," said Geralt. "I don't think I could believe that."

"Well, it's true." The baron seemed to think as he stared at his cup. "Perhaps I did turn soft. I'm a changed man after all, witcher. Not the man you once knew. Certainly not the same man that took to the bottle and beat his wife and child with it."

"Could've fooled me," mumbled Eskel, chewing on a sausage.

"So what did those men do?" asked Geralt. For all his contradictions when they first met, the witcher knew the baron wasn't the kind of man to do things without reason. If he had the men hanged, it might just be well that they did deserve it. Though, time does change a man. Who knows what really happened in those mountains.

"It's a rather long tale, witcher," informed the baron.

"Hmm…"

"Not our problem, Wolf," said Eskel, reminding him not to meddle. As much as possible, a witcher never took sides. They slay the monster, get paid in coin, then leave for the next one. Vesemir constantly reminded them of that every time they tried to do something stupid.

"Maybe next time, then," said Geralt. He leaned over the table and looked at the baron. "We're here on a rather important business."

"Really now?" The baron put down his cup and appeared more attentive. "I guessed you wouldn't have come all the way here with two of your friends just to welcome me back. Well and good, out with it then. What is it that you need?"

"You seen any ashen haired women recently?" said Lambert.

"And before you answer, it's not Ciri," added Geralt. "Already found Ciri. The one we're looking for is—"

"The Lady Maria," whispered the baron.

There was a brief silence as Geralt watched the baron's face scrounge in deep thought. It seemed that they were in the right track. They weren't sure that the woman had passed through here, but if the baron knew of her after just arriving back from the Blue Mountains, then it's safe to say that they were close.

"You know of her?" said Geralt.

"I do," said the baron. He took the bottle of juice and refilled his cup. "Looks like you're going to have to listen to my tale after all, witcher. The woman you're searching for took great part in it."

"Not gonna cut it into bits and pieces that I'll have to work for, will you?"

"Shut it. I'll tell the whole bloody story this time. No cuts or breaks, I swear. Just sit down, drink your mead and listen."

The baron closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"How did it start? Let me see…"

* * *

"I want those horses tied down this time, dammit! If we keep losing them every time a nekker, ghoul or whatever other fuckin' shite out there shows up, we'll be damn walking the rest of the way!"

The baron shouted at his men as they set up camp for the night. They had come a long way from the Blue Mountains. A harsh journey. Even coming home after all that time, they still couldn't relax one bit. Bandits and monsters kept them on their toes. They lost more than a dozen men since the beginning.

The very first thing the men did was start up the campfires. Once the sun sets, darkness is quick to take the land. The heat and light of the fire gave them some measure of small comfort against the monsters and beasts that lurked in the dark. Though, passing thoughts among the men were if it were better or not to see them.

The baron sighed as he sat on a tree stump by the campfire. He warmed his hands by the fire, his stomach rumbling.

"Keswin, when'll you have that stew ready?" he asked the soldier who was shuffling over a sack behind the cauldron.

"Have it done soon as I find those taters, baron," answered the man.

"Oh for—It's right next to you, you dimwit!" The baron walked over and grabbed the sack. "Here! Get it ready as soon as you can."

The food hadn't been the same since they lost their cook to a wolf pack about a week ago. The first few days of nothing but swill had been hard to stomach. At least now the food was somewhat edible after those failed poor excuses of a meal that even pigs would hesitate to eat. Not that any of them there could complain much since no one else knew better.

The baron snapped twigs and threw them in the fire as he waited for their meal to finish. There wasn't much to do come night time. Sometimes he and the men would go for a few rounds of gwent, but other than that there was not much else to do but pass the time idly till sleep takes them. Half of their people usually stood guard around the camp. It was dangerous times they lived in. At least, a lot more dangerous than before. Even after the war with Nilfgaard was over.

Even once they reached the familiar region of Velen, it hadn't gotten easier on them. Dense forests, swamplands and war-torn battlefields that were still littered with the rotting corpses of men… it was a brutal place to live. Still… many people called it their home. It's one reason the baron had bothered ever returning.

"Baron!"

The baron stood up quickly at the panicked shout of one of his men, his hand already at the hilt of his sword.

The soldier approached him with fear in his eyes. It was one of his soldiers on guard duty. Something had him spooked.

"What?" he asked gruffly, tensed for battle. The rest of his men clamored around the camp for their swords, shields, bows and arrows. "What is it? More nekkers, foglets, ghouls? Or are those blasted pack of wolves back for more?!"

The fear-stricken soldier shook his head.

"What is it then?!" demanded the baron.

"I… I think someone's coming down the road, baron. I hear their horse."

"Bloody hell." The baron smacked the man on the side of his head. "Don't be daft, you idiot! There aren't no men foolish enough to travel at night. Not on a moonless night as this! You got us all riled up for nothing!"

"I-I swear it's what I heard, baron!" insisted the soldier.

The baron frowned unhappily at his man. "Shut up and get back to your post before I—"

A soft sound coming from the darkness at the edge of the camp was quick to silence the baron's words. He and the rest of his men all stayed silent as they listened carefully. The slow clip-clop of hooves on the ground was unmistakable.

"Dammit!" cursed the baron. He unsheathed his sword and faced the direction the sounds came. His men did the same. "Don't let it get near the tents!"

As the baron had said earlier, there are very few men that would choose to travel through the night. The only other reasonable explanation would be that it wasn't human at all. For everyone knew that evil monsters liked to move in the cover of darkness.

As they waited with weapons drawn and ready, the sound of the trotting horse slowly grows louder. It was getting closer to them. When the baron's hands turned almost blue from how tightly he was grabbing his sword, they finally saw the appearance of the rider. The light of their campfire illuminated the figure of the rider and his horse softly.

Though the light was dim to clearly make out the appearance clearly, the rider seemed well-dressed. His attire was not something that any of them there were quite familiar with, though they recognized it to be of fine make with a cape flowing from the back.

"Halt!" called the baron. "You may stand where you are. Come any closer and me and my men will bury our blades and arrows through your chest!"

Sweat ran down the baron's back. He couldn't see the rider's face due to the feathered tri-tipped hat he wore. The horse's head also blocked their view of his face. However, the rider seemed to understand what was said. He made no motion of approaching them.

"Identify yourself and state your business," said the baron.

There was a short pause before the rider answered.

"…I mean no harm." A soft-spoken voice answered that could only belong to that of a woman. It surprised the baron and his men to hear it. "I only seek refuge from the darkness of the night. May you share your light with this passing stranger?"

The baron frowned. This woman wasn't dressed like any woman he'd seen. To even travel through the dark of night? He and his men had heard enough tales of ladies of the night that approached one's campfire on their travels. None of it ended well for those travelers.

He was unsure of the rider. He could send her away and that would be the end of it, but if what she said really was true, then that would mean almost certain death for her. Still, he had to be cautious. It was not just his life he feared for.

"Get down from your horse, and we'll see," he replied. "I'd like to have a good look at you before I decide."

There was a short silence as the rider seemed to cast her eyes over him. He couldn't see it, but he could feel her watching him like a wolf. It relieved him when she unsaddled herself from her horse.

She stepped up closer to them, merely a few feet away from their pointed swords. The orange glow of their campfire brightened her features. Ashen hair and pale skin. Her clothes were obviously stitched with the quality of no poor men, but it was clear to see that it was made not for the comforts of one's home protected by walls.

The men gulped as they seemed entranced by her beauty. Though, there was no lust in those eyes of theirs. Only fear. Understandable, given the stories they had heard.

A woman of transcendent like beauty. A sculptor would be hard to depict the fine features of her face. Such things are said to exist only as a mask to hide behind. Usually to hide the true face of a monster. Succubus, bruxa, wraiths, white ladies, and such… there was no end to the number of creatures that used the lust of men to pull them to the sweet embrace of death.

"Catch." The baron tossed something out of his pocket.

The rider caught it easily in her hand. She opened her palm to see a coin in her gloved hand.

"Pure silver," answered the baron as she looked back to him. He sheathed his sword. "I'm not sure what your intentions are travellin' like this in the middle of the night, but at least I can be sure that you're no monster. Least not one that can look at silver in their hand without so much as a flinch. Come then, join me by the fire as we wait for supper. I'd like to know who you are and where it is you came from."

The atmosphere around the camp returned to normal. His men once more returned to their posts and to their duties. Gone was their fear of a monster being in their midst. Instead, the men sent curious stares at the woman that joined their camp.

The baron himself observed the movements of their temporary guest. He'd watched how she tied her horse down, how she walked, how she sat opposite of him. He could tell the woman was no ordinary traveler.

"Might I ask why a lady such as yerself be doing 'round these parts?" queried the baron. He noticed the ornate sheath of the saber she carried at her waist.

Phillip Strenger knew this woman was a noble. He was sure of it. He'd seen the difference. Sorceress were familiar with court manners and culture. They could play their roles well with any of the aristocrats from almost every country and culture. However, there truly was a difference from those who practiced and learned to those who were born into it. And the woman in front of him, dressed as she was, was clearly of high birth.

Almost every action she took was far too refined. Soft and never lacking in elegance.

He wondered how this woman survived the night. It seemed far too improbable.

"I come seeking to hunt," said the lady.

"To hunt?" The baron raised his eyebrow at her. "To hunt what? Foxes and rabbits? 'fraid you came to the wrong place for such fanciful sport. You're in Velen. This place isn't for bored noblewomen hoping for a bit of excitement."

"To hunt beasts." The woman laid her saber on her lap, tracing her fingers over it. Somehow, the baron knew that blade was no mere accessory. "I've heard from the villagers. There are so many of them here."

"Beasts? You mean monsters?" The baron felt incredulous at this. "What are you? A witcher? Don't be foolish. Though if you come seeking monsters, there's no better place than here, I suppose. Velen, after the third Northern War, is the perfect place for the pests. Necrophages gather near the old battlefields, ogroids stalk the hills, and relicts hide behind every tree. I don't see why anyone would ever want to go here."

"Then why are you here?"

The baron was silent as the woman looked at him with no trace of emotion on her face. He didn't know if she was truly interested or not. She seemed entirely apathetic from the moment he saw her.

"As shitty of a place as it is… there are still those who call it home," he said.

"Phillip?" a different woman's voice came from the baron's tent.

"Right here, my dear."

The baron was quick to get up on his feet and walk to his tent. There he held out his hand to a seemingly frail old woman. He tenderly pulled her from the tent and escorted her out to take a seat near the campfire.

"Anna," said the baron. "Stew's just about ready. It won't take much longer."

The woman was the baron's wife, Anna Strenger. Her treatment in the Blue Mountains from the medicine man had been successful. As the baron had hoped, the medicine man had managed to piece together the shattered mind of his beloved, though it took a long time for her to recover. However, not was all as simple and easy after that.

"Anna, we've a guest," gently said the baron whilst holding her hand. "I hope you don't mind."

Anna seemed to have just noticed the woman sitting opposite the fire.

"Oh, how wonderful to have another lady in our company," said Anna. She smiled at their guest. "My goodness I'm so sorry for how I look. I must be absolutely dreadful right now."

"Not at all." Their guest stood and bowed graciously. "I offer my gratitude and thanks for you and your husband's hospitality for a stranger."

"My, how proper." Anna looked flattered. "I beg your pardon, my lady. I know my manners are probably ill-suited. Especially that of my husband's. I hope we don't offend."

Their guest shook her head and offered a small smile, the first ever emotion the baron had seen her show, at Anna. It warmed her cold beauty to that of one so sublime.

"You need not fear so," she said. "I take no offense so easily. My etiquette is merely something I had failed to forget. I hold no power over you or anyone else. Please, pay no thought to it."

"Dear, why haven't you introduced us?" glared Anna at her husband, she seemed to be hiding how happy she was by scolding him. "Don't embarrass us now in front of such a handsome young lady."

"Right, right." The baron liked how his wife was in a good mood. "This is… uh, curses…" He scratched his head in frustration. "I forgot we haven't properly introduced ourselves after that whole fiasco."

"My name is Maria," the lady bowed once more for her introduction. "It's a pleasure to meet you both."

"Lady Maria." Anna curtsied in a rather rushed way. It's been some time since last she had done so. "Anna Strenger, wife of this brute of a man next to me. It's a pleasure to have you here with us."

* * *

"Hope you enjoyed your meals."

Anna Strenger placed another warm pot of an aromatic dish on the table. She smiled warmly at the witchers sitting at their table. The baron grabbed her hand and pulled her to him for a kiss on her cheeks.

"It was the best thing I've ever had, dear," he said to her.

His wife slapped him lightly. "Oh, you! Don't think I'll start giving you more to eat after this. I won't have you turn round again."

The baron laughed as Anna returned to the kitchen.

"Glad to see your trip to the mountains worked well for her," said Geralt.

"Aye," nodded the baron. "Though, I greatly underestimated getting there. Turns out that damned hermit moved higher up the mountains since last I saw him. It wasn't an easy trek for any of us." He stared solemnly at the freshly made stew. "Anna… he hadn't entirely managed to heal her mind as it was."

"Seemed alright to me," said Eskel as he tore a piece of turkey.

"Geralt was right." The baron looked grim. "Those experiences she's had? They left a mark on my poor Anna. Not even that hermit could cleanse her of it. He advised us to return home. To see our daughter. He said seeing her might help Anna."

"What exactly was wrong with her?" said Geralt.

"Monsters, witcher. Monsters haunted her dreams."

* * *

A terrified shrill scream tore through the night, waking everyone at the camp. Some of the men quickly grabbed their weapons in panic, but those who were already awake just frowned and grumbled as they stared at the source.

In their tent, the baron tried to get close to his wife as she huddled in a corner with her sheets over her.

"Anna, dearest, it's okay! It's oka—"

"Get back! Get back, fiend!" She scratched at him, forcing him to back away as his wife shivered in fright. "Please go away! Don't take me! Don't take me!"

"Anna, please…" the baron tried to calm her down. "It was just a nightmare. You're safe. It's safe. I won't let them touch you, I swear. Come back to me, dearest."

He was able to close in and bring his wife to his embrace. Anna sobbed loudly in his arms, grabbing him tightly. They stayed like that for half the hour.

"Calmed down now, have we?" said the baron. "Want me to get your medicine?"

"Please…" weakly replied Anna. "I… I don't want to see them. Not tonight. Especially not when we've a guest here." She grabbed hold of the baron's arm again. "Oh, Phillip. Was I too loud? I must've frightened the poor dear…"

"No, dear," lied the baron. "It wasn't as loud as the usual. I'm sure she still sleeps soundly. Here, I have your medicine ready for you."

He handed her a cup of wine that he added the powdered medicine unto. It was a concoction created by the hermit specifically for her. It allowed her to slumber without interruption. Unfortunately, she could not take it every night. The hermit had advised them not to use it as much as possible. The medicine had ill-effect in the long term. One that would slowly increase the likelihood of her never waking from her slumber.

Every time she took it, the baron felt incomparable dread befall him. He'd always fear if it would be the day she would never open her eyes. When it was she who slept soundly, it was him that lied awake. They'd tried to limit its use, however, Anna would never get her sleep if they did.

"Sleep now, my dear." The baron laid his wife, already half-asleep with her eyelids heavy, on their bed. "No need for worry. Have a good rest. I'm here for you. I'll always be here for you…"

Once his wife snoozed peacefully, the baron went out of their tent. He already knew he would no longer be able to sleep, so he may as well check around the camp. He saw some of his men twist and turn in their cots on the ground. They were most likely trying to get back to sleep after what happened. Sad as it was, they were already used to it.

His eyes wandered to the silhouette of their guest sitting by the crackling campfire.

"I… apologize if I've disturbed your sleep," he said as he walked up to her. "My wife… night terrors haunt her, you see? She'd been through a lot. I hope you can understand."

"I do…" said Lady Maria sitting with her back to him. "Oh, how very well I do understand… the horrors of a dream. It's a never ending torment."

"Then I pity you," said the baron. "It's been hard on my wife. Though, I don't see the marks it bears on you. Have you a way to stop it?" There was hope in his voice. Hope that maybe there was something he could do. "If you know of a way… please, I'll offer you whatever I have. Whatever it is that you want, just name it."

Maria was silent as the baron stood there waiting for her answer.

"…I cannot help you," she finally answered. "Simply because I know not myself how it came to pass."

The baron tightened his knuckles, then sighed.

"I suppose I shouldn't have gotten my hopes up. Things like this are never easy to get rid of. It's the cost of my mistakes that have made her like this. Even so, she shouldn't be the one to bear them. I'm sorry to trouble you with our own problems. She just took her medicine, so she should stay quiet for the rest of the night. I'll leave you in peace now. Best get some rest. We still have a day's ride until we reach Crow's Perch. If you are heading that way, you are more than welcome to join us."

"You have my gratitude once more," said Maria.

"Pay it no mind," said the baron. "Velen is a dung heap, but it's _my_ dung heap. I know my Anna would appreciate you coming along with us."

The baron left Maria alone to check up on the rest of his camp. For the rest of that night, Maria just stared into the campfire in complete silence. The flickering orange glow of the fire illuminated her idle figure in a strange light that the men on guard found eerily captivating.

By the time the first light of dawn had shone in the skies, the baron's men had already begun packing for their journey. They always moved as much as they can while there is still light. The safety it brings them may be limited, but it is always welcomed. Hopefully, the sun will wait for them until they've reached the palisaded walls of Crow's Perch.

On the road, Lady Maria rode beside the baron's wagon, making conversation with Anna. She and her seemed to get along swimmingly.

"You've never been to these parts, Lady Maria?" asked Anna as she heard from their guest that this was her first time in the Northern Realms. "Do you hail from the south? Or perhaps from somewhere farther off like Zerrikania?"

"All I know is that I am lost," said Maria with a sad smile. "And very far away from the lands of my home. I fear I will never return to it."

"How'd you get lost this far then?" asked the baron who had been listening as he drove the cart. "You'd think you at least knew which direction that is you came from."

"I simply awoke one day to find myself in this strange land."

That is a hard thing to believe. But given the garbs she wore of clearly foreign make, perhaps it wasn't too tall of a tale. But then again, it's not like the baron kept up with the latest fashions. He and the people of Velen are a more practical lot than those fancily dressed men and women of Novigrad and Nilfgaard. Only sorceress would deign to keep up with such trends.

"That's terrible," said Anna. "Waking up all alone with no memories of getting here; it must have been difficult for you."

"Not at all." Maria shook her head. "The nearby villagers were kind. They offered me assistance and hospitality. I cannot express well how much I am thankful to them for it."

"Hmmm…" The baron glanced at her appearance. No doubt he knew well what the villagers had been thinking when they first saw her. He had worked for nobles once before, so he understood the thoughts of peasants better than most. "Yes… mighty kind, those villagers…"

"Well, you are more than welcome to stay with us for as long as you want," said Anna firmly. "We can't have a lovely young woman like yerself be out here alone. This world is a dangerous place we live in."

"I thank you kindly for your offer," bowed Maria. "Though, danger is something that is no stranger to me. I am a Hunter, after all. What are we without beasts to prey but beasts ourselves?"

"A hunter?" asked Anna. "A fine lady such as yourself?"

"That's right," nodded the baron. "You said you wanted to hunt here. Hunt monsters."

Anna looked somewhat disturbed by that.

"You mustn't," she pleaded. "You don't know how terrifying—how horrible they are." Her face was colored with fear. "…The ones that hide their true faces are the worse. They hide beneath human skins, but they do far worse than the ones you normally see. At least the nekkers, drowners, and such will kill you simply and quickly…"

The baron held his wife's trembling hands to comfort her.

"I am sorry if I caused you unease," said Maria. "But a Hunter… must hunt. You need not worry for my safety. As the student of Gehrman the First Hunter, I am more than capable of handling beasts."

"That sounds a bit like a witcher?" said the baron. "Can you tell me exactly what hunters do in your land?"

"We hunt beasts." The lady unconsciously laid her hand on the blade by her waist. "We are born of the blood. Made men by the blood. Undone by the blood. We are Hunters. We hunt beasts. It is… just what Hunters do."

"Blood? What do you mea—"

Before the baron could ask his question, a call from the front of their small caravan catches their attention. The train of horses had halted so they could not proceed. One of his men could be seen riding back towards them.

"Baron?" said his soldier. "There's something up ahead. You might want to see it."

"Then move the bloody horses forward so I can get there!"

The soldier glanced briefly at his wife. He moved closer to whisper something in the baron's ear that caused his eyes to widen. The baron jumped down from the cart immediately.

"Phillip?"

"Worry not, dearest," said the baron with a smile. "One of the wagons seemed to have gotten stuck in a ditch. These poor excuses for men are just too weak to pull it out of the mud so they need me to help get it out. I'll be back quickly."

The soldier gave his horse to the baron, who trotted off as soon as he got on.

"Your husband is quite dependable," remarked Maria.

"Yes, that he is," said Anna. "Mind you he hadn't always been this way, but I can't say I hate him for it. He's gone through a lot for me, proven that he is a man of his word. I know I've caused more headaches than most would care." She turned her eyes to the south of them. "We've even had to take a longer route just because of me."

"Is there something there?" Maria asked as she looked where Anna's eyes were.

"Just a place…" said Anna. "A bog. One that had been the home of wicked things…"

* * *

"You recognize it, baron?"

"I'm looking at it, aren't I?"

The baron stared at the object hanging underneath a rotting tree by the roadside in their path. He frowned at seeing it when he first saw sight of it. He couldn't mistake it. He had encountered it once before, after all. It brought about unpleasant memories for him.

"What do you make of it, sir?" said one of his men who had gathered there. They were all unsettled by the sight of the object.

"That there are some folk who just can't let go of the past."

"But this close to Crow's Perch?" said another. "Right in front of a main road as well. Maybe its best we turn back?"

"Turn back?!" shouted the baron in anger. He grabbed the man that suggested so. "Turn back all the way back to the fuckin' Blue Mountains just because of an ugly trinket on a tree?! I am the fucking Bloody Baron that rules here! I'll not turn around with my tail behind my legs like some frightened pup!"

The baron grabbed the trinket from the tree and threw it on the ground.

"Burn it!" he said as he glared at his men. "Burn all of it! I want all of you to ride up ahead and gather every single one within sight of the road. I'll not have Anna see any of it. If even a single one is missed, I'll bash your heads myself! You hear me?!"

The men were quick to follow his orders. They got on their horses and rode ahead just as he said.

Once the men left, the baron turned his attention back at the trinket he threw. It was a grotesque item made of stringed together human ears. It had been spinning like wind chimes as it had hung on the tree. He'd seen them before.

Back at Crookback Bog.

"…What in the hell is going on here?"

* * *

Their travel Crow's Perch had been delayed a bit. The baron informed his wife that it had been hard to pull the wagon out of the ditch, which was the reason for the delay. In truth, he wanted to make sure his men had gotten every single ear in their way. He did not want to put any further stress on her. He would sort all of it out once they reached home anyway. He'd be damned sure of it.

It wasn't long before they started seeing travelers and peasants walking down the road with them. Mottled folk that worked the fields, merchants that traveled to hawk their wares, and some folk just passing through from this place to another. Crossroads to and from are close to Crow's Perch.

A soldier, not one of his original men, was on the road up ahead of them. He seemed to be accosting a family by the roadside. Unfortunately, this wasn't an uncommon thing even back when he'd still been here.

"Come on then, you know the drill," he said to the man of the family. "Pay up or you and yours will be up next for this year's offering."

"But, sir, we just gave them to you's this harvest," said the peasant.

"Oh, whassat you?" the rough soldier scratched his chin in thought. "Well, I must've lost it before it got to the sergeant. Sorry about that, but I guess you'll have to pay up again."

"Sir!" The peasant got on his knees. "We've nothing left to give! We've sold all we can to pay it the first time!"

"Then I suppose you'll just have to show at this year's offering," grinned the soldier. "You know you have to pay tribute to the lord of Velen. He's doing this for everyone's good, you understand?"

"I ain't doing anything for shite!"

The baron said as he came up on his horse with his men in tow behind him. He glowered at the soldier in front of them.

"And who the hell are you?!" demanded the soldier, looking like he was nonplussed by the baron and his well-armed men behind him.

The baron trotted his horse up to the man, and put his boot up his face.

"You think you can use my name and authority and not recognize me?" he spat at him.

"B-Baron!" The soldier could barely say through his broken teeth. "Y-You're back!"

The man backed away and struggled to get back on his feet. He looked like a confused mutt that had just seen the chick he was chasing turn into a cockatrice.

"That's right," said the baron. "I'm back. Now why don't you run along and inform my sergeant of my return. Tell him I expect a full report on everything that's happened while I'd been gone. Also, tell him that I'm righteously pissed off, so he'd better have good food on the table before I get there."

The soldier scampered back to his horse in a panic and rode off to do as he was told.

"Blubberin' idiot," muttered the baron. He approached the family left on the roadside. "I take it you folk know who I am? Or am I going to have to reintroduce myself?"

"No, baron," the peasant man bowed his head down. "It be clear to us who you are."

"Good, because I need you to tell me what exactly has been going on here since I've been gone. I've already stepped on one little shit, I'd rather know if there any others."

The peasant man exchanged doubtful glances with the rest of his family behind him before he answered.

"Things are not as it were, baron," said the man in a frightened tone. "It's been worse since you left. We can't speak any more than that. They have ears everywhere listening on us folk."

"You mean those ears scattered all over the place?" said the baron. "Dammit! So it is as serious as I feared. Does Ardal have anything to do with it?"

The peasant held his tongue. It was obvious to anyone by the face he was making that he was scared to death of saying anything more.

"Fine then," grunted the baron, leaving the family as he once more led the front with his men. "I suppose we'll see for ourselves what's happened."

* * *

"It's strange that Phillip isn't here with me."

Anna kept stretching her neck from her seat on the cart to check and see if she could make out her husband's figure at the front of the caravan. Her husband had left Keswin to drive the cart while he was gone. The baron had told her he wanted to make sure they suffered no more delays, so he had to lead the men for the time being.

"Only for no more than a few hours now, mistress," answered Keswin. The baron had made it clear he was not to inform his wife of any problems. "We'll soon arrive at Crow's Perch."

"I hope you do not think me poor company," said Maria. Her horse trotted alongside their wagon.

"Oh, no, no, no!" said Anna. "It's just that my husband had never left my side like this for a long time now. I just find it odd that he'd start now."

As much as possible, the baron had never left her side for more than a few hours at a time. He was concerned for her well-being. Though at times even she had found it far too much.

From up the road, passers-by glanced at their caravan. There are more people along the dirt roads now that they are approaching one of major hubs of Velen. Although, it seemed there were fewer than it had been back during their time here. Which was strange considering a war had been raging through the countryside back then.

When Anna saw one of the peasants passing by, her face froze as it seemed like the blood had drained from it. Maria had taken notice of it.

"Lady Anna?" she asked with concern. "Are you alright?"

"That man…" muttered Anna. She pointed at him. "He… he's missing an ear…"

"Yes," said Maria. "Does his disfigurement bother you?"

"No—I mean, yes!" Anna looked unsure but frightened. "It's… just a coincidence… Plenty of ways, plenty of reasons how a man might lose his ear. It doesn't have to be that. This is Velen, after all."

"Lady Anna?"

"Ah." She seemed to have realized that she had begun rambling to herself. "I'm so sorry, dear. I… I think I need some time to rest. Yes. Please excuse me."

Anna spent the remainder of their time huddled inside the wagon. Her silent murmurings could be heard by those nearby, but none dared speak of it.

* * *

"Baron! I see you've made it back down the mountains in one piece!"

The baron frowned as he saw Ardal welcoming him right outside Crow's Perch. Beside the sergeant and some soldiers, black and ashen pyres crackled and smoked. There were burned and charcoaled bodies tied to stakes The burned and charcoaled bodies of men were tied at the center of them. It was hard to make out who or what they were. Still, it was easy enough to tell that they were humanoid. Some of them had opened mouths, probably from when they screamed as the fire burned them alive.

"What's going on here, Ardal?" said the baron steely.

"Just meting out justice, baron." The sergeant saluted him as he had always had, thought the smirk on his face was as slimy as ever. "These men had been accosting your loyal people. They left us no choice. I couldn't let them go unpunished."

"And what exactly did these men do?"

Sergeant Ardal took a sword passed over to him by one of his men. He showed the symbol of the pommel to the baron. The emblem was easy enough to distinguish.

"Witch hunters…?" murmured the baron. He knew them well enough. After all, it was they and the witcher that had helped him save his wife in Crookback Bog. Not to mention that his own daughter had joined their order.

"Aye, baron," nodded sergeant Ardal. "They've been accusing men and women alike of dark magics and called for us to burn them. I don't know if you've heard, but their order had been getting far too… _enthusiastic_ with their ideals of late. You remember they burned sorceress, mages, and witches alike during Radovid's rule? Well, they seemed to have gotten into the habit of doing the same to non-humans, pellars, healers, and even herbalists in recent times."

"So you thought it right to set them alight?"

The sergeant smirked. "Isn't that something the bards would tell tales about? Poetic justice? I don't rightly know. It's not like I can carry a tune. But I just thought it a fitting punishment."

The baron felt something off with his sergeant. True, he'd known the man to be ruthless and even cruel during their time together as soldiers, but there was something off putting coming off that smile of his. There was also the fact that he couldn't recognize any of his old soldiers among his company.

"Now, you and everyone else must be tired and hungry, baron?" asked Ardal. "How 'bout you come inside and enjoy the feast we've prepared? Daylight's just about over. We can talk about those reports you wanted over a warm meal."

The skies were slowly turning dark as the last signs of the sun's orange light sets on the horizon. Cold winds started to rankle through the cloth and armor of the baron and his men. His sergeant was right that it would be better to finish things behind the safety of the palisade walls. However, the baron couldn't really be so sure of that. Still, the thought of his wife pushed him to agree.

Sergeant Ardal led them through the low moat and bridge. As the baron and their caravan passed towards the hold, they noticed the frightened eyes of the people hiding inside their huts. The only other people they saw were sergeant Ardal and his men. It was hard to believe, but it seemed the conditions actually looked worse than how the baron remembered it. Not that it had been a picture of wealth before. Things just seemed a little more… displaced.

"Jorgen," whispered the baron to the man riding at his side. "Recognize any of the men here?"

"No, baron." Jorgen and the others seemed to have already been looking for their old compatriots among the soldiers there. "Me and the others can't seem to find any old faces in this lot. Doesn't seem right, sir. I can't believe all of 'em would leave their posts so easily."

"Same," answered the baron. "It feels more like we're being led like sheep to a slaughter. Have the men keep an eye out. I don't like the look of things here."

As they entered the hold, things turned warmer and festive. There was a large bonfire at the center as tables and chairs were scattered all throughout the open space. Lanterns hung by the branches of the trees that illuminated the feast that was on the tables. The food seemed to glisten and moist at the sight of the baron and his people. It was a feast worthy of a king.

"How'd you like the welcome, baron?" smirked Ardal. "Was nice of you to give us a heads up on your arrival. Wasn't sure if we'd make it with all the preparations we had to make, but as you can see, we managed well enough."

It was more than enough. All the doubts in the minds of the baron's men seemed to have evaporated at seeing all the food and alcohol in front of their eyes. Some had already taken seats and dug into the vast pile of delectable, washing it down greedily with mead at their side without even waiting on their commander's order.

The baron slowly approached a table that had the biggest looking turkey he'd ever seen in his life. The scent of it tickled his nostrils. His stomach seemed to rumble deeply. With one hand he reached out and tore a leg off. As he was about to bite into that moist morsel of meat, he heard his dear Anna behind him somewhere near his men.

"This… this isn't right?" he heard her say. "Something's not right. I know this. I know something's wrong with all of this!"

The baron frowned. His eyes wandered from the meat in his hand to his wife.

Suddenly, everyone heard a loud bang of a door opening. From the cellar of the keep, a man, haggard and looking gravely beaten, crawled on the ground. From the emblem on his garb, it was recognizable that this man belonged the order of witch hunters.

"Don't eat it! Foul magic—It's the workings of a vile witch!" he said as he coughed.

With those words of his, a spell seemed to have been undone. The leg that the baron had held had turned into a rotting leg of a corpse. He dropped it on the ground and backed away quickly. The wonderful feast that had been prepared for them had shown its true appearance. Bodies and limbs of monsters and men piled on the tables with fresh blood still oozing out of them. The mead that had been prepared was nothing but the curdled blood, already turned dark.

"What is this?!" the baron shouted. The men that had already eaten and drank spilled out the contents of their stomachs. "What's the meaning of this, Ardal?!"

He and his men took out their swords and faced the sergeant. Ardal just sighed as he scratched his head.

"Really," he said as some of his men joined him at his side. "This could have gone much simpler if you'd just ate like the pig you were. Well, I guess it was also a mistake on my part. These witch hunters are a persistent lot."

"You'll burn in the Eternal Fire for what you've done to my men!" The witch hunter dragged himself to the baron's side. He glared at Ardal with intense hatred in his eyes. "He colludes with a witch that had terrified all of Velen! We were sent here by our order to investigate. When we found out his dealings with a witch, they had us butchered and burned after they fed us the rotting corpses like they do now!"

"Ardal!" The baron growled menacingly as he pointed his blade at his sergeant. "You traitorous bastard! This is how you treat me after my return?!"

"Poor, poor Ardal. Your baron seems quite mad at the feast we've worked hard to prepare just for him."

The disembodied voice of a woman vibrated in the air. A very attractive young woman seemed to appear out of thin air behind sergeant Ardal. She caressed his cheek and kissed him on his lips as her arms wrapped around him.

"How very rude of him, isn't he, Ardal?" the witch smirked at the baron. There was something about her that seemed familiar to the baron, he just couldn't remember what.

"N-N-Noooo!" Anna screamed. She tried to back away while the baron's men held her back to stop her from leaving their side in such a dangerous situation. "Why?! Why are you here?!"

The witch cackled as she watched Anna's frightened figure. "Why? Of course, it's because I wanted revenge. You didn't think I'd leave you be now, did you?" The beautiful face scowled, turning into a frightening visage. "Not after what happened. After all, it was you! You were one of the reasons why my sisters are now dead!" She stood beside Ardal and smiled. "Come now, my old servant. It's time to reap what you've sown."

The piles and mounds of flesh on the table slicked and sloshed as they moved. They pushed together and formed some sorts of abominations slapped together of flesh and blood. They pieced together parts of men and monsters that matched the number of Ardal's men.

"Flesh golems…" murmured the witch hunter. "How repulsive the dark magic she wields."

"You've thrown yourself with that witch, Ardal!" roared the baron. "Are you so willing to lose your humanity for this?!"

Sergeant Ardal simply continued to smirk. "What can I say? After you left, I got a taste for power. And I have to say, I find it more attractive than any wench in a tavern. With you gone for good, I'd have all of Velen under my rule. I'd also get to see your carcass eaten by pigs instead, for once. What's not to like?"

He signaled his men to attack, and the battle began.

The baron's men were hardened men. They've faced men and monsters before up in the Blue Mountains. Even a witcher would find himself impressed at these veteran soldiers. They stayed their ground, with the baron himself beside them. They held back their fears even as they faced monsters, because they learned quickly that it was those who showed it that tended to die first.

"You've lost weight, baron!" grinned Ardal as he crossed blades with his old commander. "I have to say I'm disappointed at that. I was hoping I could gut you like the pig you were!"

The baron pushed him back and elbowed him, breaking his nose. "I make no distinction with appearances. I'll gut you just like any other man!"

They clashed again against one another as others fought their own battles beside them in a clamor. Two of the baron's men charged one of the abominations and pulled it down. One man took a blow from an abomination that sent him flying and crashing into Ardal's men. The golems were just as stupid as the ones made of sand and stone it would seem. Men shouted and screamed as the battle raged on. It was a chaotic spectacle.

"Where's your witch to help you now?!" snorted the baron after he butted his head into Ardal's. He'd almost cut off his sergeant's head after swinging his sword at his neck.

"You don't know?" sneered Ardal as he wiped the blood dripping from his nose. "Why don't you tell me where your wife is in this mess?"

"Anna?" Realization struck the baron. He turned to where he last saw her.

His wife laid on the ground with her back to a tree. Blood pooled around the fallen bodies of his men that had been guarding her while the Weavess approached. The witch had taken to savor her revenge slowly in the chaos of the battle.

"Anna!" The baron tried to run over to her. "Aaargh!"

Looking back behind him, Ardal had a dagger pierced into his leg. He smiled wickedly at him.

"Now don't be rude, baron," he said. "Let the ladies have their fun. We can just watch them from over here."

The baron smashed his knee onto the man's face. He tried again to move, but his injured leg couldn't support his weight. Ardal had also taken to blocking his path. He had no means of getting to where his wife was in time. He could only watch as the witch slowly walked up to his wife.

"Horrible…" The witch wagged her finger at Anna. "What a horrible servant you had been. You must be punished. Yes, punished in the most painful of ways…"

As the hand of the witch reached out to her, a blur intercepted it. The wicked hand of the witch sailed high into the air and fell on one of the tables of horrid meats.

"Aaaaahhhhhhh!" The witch lost the illusion of her beauty that she wore as she screamed whilst holding her cut appendage. Her appearance was now that of an absolutely disgusting crone that had been infected with all sorts of diseased skin.

"Not even a finger will you lay on her."

In front of Anna stood Lady Maria with her blade out. She stood firmly with her sword and feathered cap pointed at the ground.

"Foolish human!" hissed the Weavess. "I'll show you the most horr—!"

The witch seemed to freeze as she looked at the woman that had chopped her hand off. Surprisingly, she took a step back. Almost as if in fear.

"Human…?" whispered the Weavess unsurely. "You…? No… not human. You're not human. You're… something else. Someone like you can't be considered human. Even far less than that of a witcher. What are you?"

From underneath her cloak, Maria had taken out a long dagger, wielding it on her left hand as she held her sword on the other.

"I… am a Hunter," she said, raising her head to stare into the eyes of her prey. "And I've come to hunt."

"Kill her!"

All the flesh golems around them ignored the baron's men in order to fulfill the witch's command. They charged at Maria as their rotting flesh pounded on the ground.

Dual-wielding the blades in her hands, Maria slashed and dodged among the golems. She was swift and agile, her movements made with practiced ease. It was as if one were watching a performance on stage. Her blade cut easily through the jumbled together flesh of the abominations as she slashed and cleaved. Try as the golems might, they were far too slow and far too stupid to even put a scratch on her.

Before the last golem had even fallen from the fatal blow she gave it, she was already walking towards the Weavess, her intent clear.

A guttural howl pierced the night. It came from the top of the keep. The shadow of a lumbering beast could be seen under the night sky. It jumped and landed between Maria and the witch, sending tremors along the ground.

"My pet doesn't seem to like you either," cackled the witch.

The fiend roared fiercely at Maria. It charged on all fours at her with its horns. It didn't stop until it had hit one section of the palisade walls surrounding the keep, breaking a good portion of it. Though the fiend had moved quickly, his target had sidestepped its charge.

Maria had taken her blades and hit their pommels together in a twist. The sword and dagger came together to form a single twin-blade. She held it like lance, sword-end pointed at the fiend as she lowered her stance, waiting for it to come to her. The fiend obliged and came for her in another run, however, before it even got halfway to her, she had appeared in front of it. She thrusted her blade straight down the middle of the monster's skull.

The Weavess, seeing her pet killed, turned to flee. She, however, found herself unable to move or transform to make her escape. Looking down she saw a long blade pierced through her chest. Maria had thrown her twin-blade like a javelin when she had turned.

The witch turned her head and gave one last look at Maria. "…Hunter… you with cursed blood…"

With those final words, the witch collapsed. Dead.

Ardal's men started dropping their weapons in surrender. The death of the witch and her monsters had caused them to admit defeat. Ardal himself had fallen when the baron cleaved his sword through the middle of his skull. There was no one else left standing to oppose them.

The baron and his men cheered loudly at their victory. It had been an almost hopeless battle that they had not thought to win.

Maria stood in front of the witch's corpse. She freed her blade and flicked the blood away from it. Something fell from the witch when she had done so. She picked it up and dangled the item in front of her eyes. The wolf medallion held a silver sheen to it that the dark seemed unable to completely swallow.

* * *

The baron had set off to work on restoring his rule over Crow's Perch. Any man that had willfully gone along with Ardal and the witch's plans were sentenced to hang. Their bodies would be tied to every tree all over Velen as a sign to all that the foul misdeeds of these men have ceased, and that their master and mistress have fallen. It took quite a bit of effort, but a semblance of normalcy returned to Crow's Perch after a week's time.

Not all was well, however.

The baron's wife had slept through all of this. That witch's feast of gore had pushed her mind to the edge once more. The nightmares that plagued her had grown progressively worse. She had taken her medicine for three days in a row soon after they began. Until finally, as the baron had feared, she no longer woke on the fourth day.

"Has there been any change in her condition?"

Maria entered Anna's room. The baron knelt beside her bed, holding the hands of his dear wife in his hands. Every free moment he had not settling matters of his region, he was at her side. The only reason he wasn't there all the time was that he still held hope that she might wake soon. He didn't want her to wake up to any more horrors or problems that they'd left behind. But that reason was soon approaching its end.

"She still lies asleep…" The baron was downcast at the state of his wife. "Her body grows weak with every day passed. I've sent for healers, doctors, pellars—they say all the same thing. If she continues to sleep like this, she will not survive…"

The baron had actually intended to rush all the way back to the Blue Mountains with her, but he was told that he would not make it in time. Anna's body would not be able to handle the journey as well. The medicine the hermit had given her was strong. Herbalists could not do anything without being absolutely sure that they would make things worse. The only chance she had was if she were to wake on her own.

"I take it you've finished with those griffins at the glades?" said the baron. Maria nodded. "Thank you. In all honesty, I don't how to repay you for all you've done."

The lady Hunter had not been idle. Day after day she'd hunted beasts. Sometimes from dusk till dawn. It was one of the reasons the baron had been able to manage things without too much problems. The witch, as vile as she were, had been keeping the monsters at bay. Most probably through her witchcraft. When she had died, it was inevitable that those spells would fail. Thus, the monsters beset themselves on the people soon after. With the baron's own men now low in numbers, it would have been hard to repel them if not for Lady Maria's presence.

Lady Maria approached the other side of the bed and watched Anna sleep.

"It was not enough…" she said.

"Fuck that," frowned the baron. "I'm sorry if that may seem crude to you, but there was no damned way we would have survived that night if it weren't for you. You did all you could, and more besides. My wife… Anna wouldn't want you to feel responsible for this." He shook his head. "There's no need for you to feel guilt. That alone is my burden to bear. It was by my actions that had led to this."

All of this could have been avoided if only he'd been a good husband since the beginning. The reason his wife came to the crones was because of him. There was plenty of regret but no action taken that could have remedied it. His time in the mountains had caused the baron to reflect on his past actions. Admitting that all that's happened had been the fault of his was just the truth. And admitting it so had hurt him more than any wound Ardal could have inflicted on him.

"…You will leave soon, I take it?" said the baron. "Those griffins were the last of our monster problems here, but I'm afraid I can't say the same for the other places in Velen. My men are training new recruits as hard and fast as they can, but it will take time before I even consider sending them off to fight monsters. At least with bandits they wouldn't piss their pants the second they see them." He sighed. "I can tell you want to help those people. Like you've helped us. You're acting like a saint, and I don't mean that as a compliment. Many will take advantage of you for it. There are monsters that pretend to be human, and there are humans that act like monsters."

"I am no saint," said Maria. "And I am not without sin to bear."

While it had been hard to hear over the battle, the baron had heard what the witch said to her. That wretched, vile crone had said she wasn't human. He hadn't put much thought to it due to everything else lately. In truth, he didn't much care. The baron saw the sadness in her eyes that spoke of the cold truth in those words of hers. A true monster would not hold such regret and emotion.

"I shall take my leave come dawn," she said.

"I can't say I didn't expect you to leave so soon." The baron stood and offered his hand. "But as my wife had said, you'll be welcomed at our home should you ever return."

Maria shook hands with the baron. That act alone had given a rare smile to her.

The baron almost stumbled. He cursed himself as he tried to get his bearings.

"You've not slept."

"Aye," nodded the baron weakly. "Hadn't had much chance to. Worry not. This old soldier's grown used to it. It's not going to kill me."

"But it will affect your health," pointed Maria. "Please, get some rest. I will watch over your wife while you do. After all, I shall leave soon. I must bid her my farewells."

"I… I suppose I should," reluctantly agreed the baron. It was obvious that he had missed more than a few hours of sleep. The bags under his eyes were visible to anyone.

Maria had taken the baron's seat as he moved to another room. There was nothing she could do but watch in silent vigil. She does not have miraculous power like the healing church to wake Anna. She could only treat and mend like a nurse could, but otherwise, she can only offer words of encouragement to those in pain. But even words cannot do anything for the woman in front of her.

Maria felt for her rakuyo by her side. She can feel a presence in the room. A ball of white light hovers a few feet away from them. It did not seem hostile or dangerous. In fact, it seemed to radiate warmth and comfort.

This was a lubberkin. It was a sort of friendly guardian spirit. Specifically, it was the baron and Anna's child turned botchling turned lubberkin. The witch had sealed it with her spells to prevent it from interfering with her work. With the witch gone, it was once again free.

It moved itself right above Anna's bed, hovering just a few inches from her face. Maria was unsure of what to do about it, but she somehow understood that it was trying to help. So she let it be. Through the night, it continued to hum and flicker until dawn had shown.

When the baron awoke and entered his wife's room, he found her sitting up and smiling at the daylight coming through her window. He could not believe his eyes.

"Phillip?" she said as she noticed him. "I just had the most wonderful dream."

* * *

"Nice ending."

Geralt meant it. There were few tales that truly ended as such. Though a happy end is never truly an end.

"Could've done without the whole mystery meat feast turning into a total gore fest though." Lambert pushed away a plate of steak that he had set aside from earlier. His appetite had gone after that point in the story. "That is going to bother me every time someone offers me a feast now."

"Haha! You should join my men who ate it!" laughed the baron. "They've sworn off meat for the rest of their lives. Can't say I blame them. I'd have done the same if I'd eaten that filth."

"More for me then." Eskel grabbed the steak and chewed through it. He seemed unaffected by the whole thing.

"So what happened with Lady Maria?" asked Geralt. "Your ending didn't exactly say where she was going. It had taken us a while to track her down here, I'd appreciate it if you can point us in the right direction."

"Anna and I hadn't seen her leave," said the baron. "I'm not sure what she did, but she wouldn't have left without saying goodbye if she didn't know Anna would wake."

"Another miracle by our saint," chuckled Lambert.

"I'm not so sure it was her. My wife woke up telling me of her dream. She told me she was playing with our daughter. Our dear, sweet Dea."

"The lubberkin?" said Geralt. "It's possible. No one is entirely sure what they are capable of, given how rare they are."

Information is scarce about them. Even the reason Geralt had known about them was simply coincidence. He had been fairly sure that the tale on how to make one from a botchling was pure fantasy.

"I didn't expect much from what that hermit had told me," chuckled the baron. "But I suppose he was right that seeing our daughter would help my dear Anna. Though it wasn't the daughter we were thinking of."

"So we're still stuck to tracking where she went," groaned Lambert. He was right. With no knowing which direction she went, tracking someone through Velen's difficult terrain would take time.

"Might be easier this time 'round," said the baron. "The lady went with an escort. That witch hunter that survived the witch's grasp had left with her. Most likely he'd accompanied her 'till they meet up with his order."

"Hmm…" Eskel didn't seem to like that. "Those witch hunters could be a problem. Not all of them are bad, but… a lot of them tend to be overzealous. They've been starting up garrisons all over Redania as their influence rose."

"Tell me about it," sighed Lambert. "Keira wouldn't shut up about them after one tried to have her arrested when we passed through Rinbe. He was pretty understanding though after she told him how easy it would be for him to get blue balls by freezing his nuts. I gotta admit that I never thought someone using a cold spell could look so hot."

"Keep it in your pants, Lambert," said Geralt.

"There's one where the old nilfgardiaan garrison used to be," said the baron. "Seems they've taken to rebuilding parts of it to make it easy on them. They've an outpost somewhere in Grayrocks, but I've not heard much else from it. Their presence is strong in Novigrad, so you're likely to find someone there who'd know more. Though, from what I've heard, they might not be so welcoming there."

"They also had some kind of headquarters in Oxenfurt, last I remember," said Geralt. "Might be worth checking."

"Not as much as they did before, but, aye, they do have some men stationed there," said the baron. "Tamara should still be there. Anna and me will visit there after I've settled things here in a few months. We want to make sure our she's alright."

"Right," nodded Lambert. "Magic hating racists. Only nice and polite when they need you to do something for them. Better to send one witcher than have ten of their own men dead against a vampire."

"Don't see much of a difference from our usual contracts," said Eskel.

"Ah, but that's usually because of our line of work," argued Lambert. "Witch hunters hate us because of that _and_ because we can use a little bit of magic. I heard some idiots from their order tried to find the end of a rainbow so that they could burn the entire thing because a kid had told them it was magic. The only reason they tolerate us is because they know we can kill monsters that they can't for a reasonable amount of coin."

"Hasn't been that reasonable," grumbled Eskel.

"Says the guy who also went with me to open an account at Vivaldi's," smirked Lambert.

"So where do we go from here?" Geralt took out his map and laid it on the table. "The old nilfgaardian garrison is in the opposite direction of Novigrad. They're both pretty far from here. We're going to have to split up."

"I'll take the old garrison," said Lambert. "I gotta pass through Midcopse anyway. Keira wants me to pick up some stuff she left behind in her old hut there."

"You sure you'll be fine by yourself?"

Lambert scoffed in mock offense. "How dare you doubt my abilities, Geralt. You know I've killed just as many monsters as you have. Maybe even more."

"It's your mouth I'm doubting," said Geralt. "I can't exactly picture you—No. I don't even want to picture what you would do if you met Lady Maria."

"Oh. That. Yeah, it's definitely going to be the sack—Ow! Damn it, Eskel!"

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **I considered many times on just cutting this chapter into 3 or 4 chapters, but I would probably lose motivation at some point. I tried to make it a bigger chapter, but I think some of the writing, specifically the critical action parts are a bit lacking. I'm tired now though. It's time for hibernation until I get motivated once again. Already have plans ready for the next part of the story.**

 **Anyways, I hope people read and review. If you see any grammar or spelling mistakes, please do inform me.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I own neither Bloodborne or The Witcher. This work is merely fanfiction, and as such, earns me no income whatsoever. Please don't sue me, I'm really poor.**

 **Warning! This chapter is for mature readers. Though, if you played any of the Witcher games then you're probably fine. It's not really that big of a deal.**

* * *

"Careful of the wolfsbane next to rock by the fence, chant Izuld's sixth verse after passing the second tree, drop the enchanted ring in the empty flowerpot…"

Lambert read and performed all that was written on the notes Kiera had given him. It was a detailed account of how to bypass all the spells and traps that she had left behind for her old abode in Midcopse. Though she never even considered moving back there, she still maintained a security around the place. Most likely if there were unexpected events that would force her to hide away again.

Lamber found the list to be a tedious job, though it made it easier than breaking through all those magical security forcefully. In fact, the most trouble he'd had so far was picking the lock to the wooden cabin's lock. After going Keira made absolutely sure that he would follow every detail on the list she gave him, she'd forgotten to give him something so simple as the key to the place.

"Finally," groaned Lambert as the lock clicked open.

He entered the house. Though the house had been empty for years, it was oddly clean. He wondered if sorceresses had enchantments that prevented dust buildup.

"Okay, just one last thing."

He read the final instructions on the paper he'd been holding.

"Stand against the clear wall next to the door, raise both arms high, and I have to…?" he read doubtfully. "And what?! Seriously?!"

The last security measure is apparently some sort of magical full body scan to make sure the person is not some sort of copy-cat, shape-shifting monster, or illusionary double. It also wanted to make sure that nothing dangerous made it past the defenses. So, it wanted Lambert to leave all his weapons, armor, boots and all by the doorway.

Basically, he needed to be as naked as the day he'd been born to get past the final security check.

He was beginning to doubt the seriousness of Keira's list. Some of them seemed pretty nonsensical and wholly embarrassing. Keira had told him that was the point of it, since someone determined to break in to her home would no doubt rather force his way in than perform the necessary actions to bypass them. Of course, she herself had no need to perform them being the one who created the security measures in the first place. The list was more for people that would need to go there on her behalf if she was not able to herself. Only the very real threat of a magical self-destruct option kept Lambert from doing away with the list and brute-force his way in.

Lambert had asked why she couldn't have made a simple magical pass like a card or something that would have made it much easier on him. She answered that such an item could be stolen and used by anyone at all.

He was just glad there was no one around to see him. He had really dodged an arrow there by going here by himself. No doubt Eskel and Geralt would have more things to say about him and his relationship with Keira after seeing him making a fool out of himself.

"Ugh. Fine. Let's just get this over with." He grumbled, but he was just glad that it was fairly simpler than all the other acts he had to do. It was the very last part anyway. There should be no harm in doing it in the privacy of an empty dwelling of his lover.

Or there shouldn't have been…

"What the—?"

Ropes had suddenly slipped out from the ceiling above him and tied the witcher's arms. A few more slithered on the ground and caught his legs. The ropes tightly bound on his limbs as they pulled his body taught.

"My…" a familiar voice echoed in the room. "Such an obedient witcher."

Lambert froze in his futile attempts to struggle against his bindings.

"I must say, I wasn't so sure you would follow it all correctly."

A small candle lit from the center of the dark house. Holding it was a woman with light blond hair. Her face was barely visible from the light of the small candle in her hands, but the pleased smile on it was perfectly obvious.

"Keira…?" said Lambert unsurely.

Yes. Keira Metz.

Sorceress. Member of the Lodge. Former advisor to King Foltest of Temeria. And also… Lambert's lover of some years now.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Well, this is my home," she answered. "Isn't that a silly question to ask?"

"You know what I mean," said Lambert in annoyance.

"So testy," laughed Keira. She came closer to him. The candlelight illuminated her beautifully curved and scantily dressed body. Her fingers traced lightly over his chest. "Feeling a little… exposed, are we?"

"…What are you planning?" said Lambert uneasily. The tips of her nails sent goosebumps up his back. He couldn't help it, but the lower part of his front also went up.

Keira placed down the candle on a table nearby.

She unlaced the back of what her dress. It fell smoothly off of her into the floor.

Lambert gulped at the sight of her.

Her hand reached down and tightly squeezed on his precious sacks.

"Just something I've planned for a while now," she whispered seductively into his ears. "Nothing you wouldn't like." He could feel her bare and warm breasts press against his cold skin. "Well… maybe a few things you wouldn't like."

She pressed her lips against his and rolled their tongues together. Both of them were slightly gasping hot breaths by the time their lips parted.

"…Though I'm sure you might change your mind afterwards."

* * *

"Wow."

There was no other words that Lambert could think of that seemed perfectly acceptable for that night.

"That was… really something," he said lamely.

"Found yourself appreciation for some new sense of adventure now?" giggled Keira. She snuggled up partly covered by silk sheets, though she was still completely naked underneath.

"Well, when you explained it to me it wasn't very convincing."

Being a witcher for most of his life, he was familiar yet unaccustomed to being tied up. In a situation like that, it severely limited one's ability to survive. It left him almost completely helpless. Without power. Without control.

It's probably why it felt all the more exhilarating for him.

Remembering the things Keira did to him that night—the things she made him say and do—made him embarrassed once again. Although, he probably wouldn't be so against it every once in a while now… well, maybe on a few occasions.

"Promise you won't tell the guys about this?"

"I won't." Keira kissed him. "The girls, though? Oh, I promised to tell them every detail of it!"

"You little minx!"

They wrestled and rolled around the bed laughing. It didn't take long before they got into a more… traditional part of bed play.

After a rather exhausting but satisfying romp around, beside, and over their bed, Lambert had Keira resting happily in his arm. Their activities left them glistening in sweat and content to just lie there together for the rest of the night.

"So, you had this all planned from the very beginning?" asked Lambert.

"It's been in the back of my mind for quite some time now, yes. Your current quest just gave me the perfect excuse to set it all up. Although, I didn't expect you would take your time getting here."

"Don't blame me," he shrugged. "It's not so easy tracking someone through Velen. I'm a witcher. I hunt monsters, not ladies. Well, maybe Geralt does, but I don't."

"And you're sure you're not?" asked Keira playfully. "I heard the woman to be quite a beauty herself. Perhaps you'd be more interested in her than ugly monsters. I know I would be."

"The only woman I need is right here." Keira gasped as Lambert squeezed her bottom hard. "Besides I already have a sack with her name on it."

"While I appreciate your rather profound fidelity," she giggled. "I do hope you are taking this seriously? This woman is not to be trifled with so easily."

"You're beginning to sound like Geralt," groaned Lambert. "So the woman can fight monsters? Big deal. We fight monsters all the time. Heck, we've even fought the Wild Hunt before. I'm sure we can handle her just fine."

Keira sighed and sat up. "And I'm here to tell you that you can't. This woman is far more than meets the eye. However dangerous the Wild Hunt had been, she's an enigma that may yet prove to be more dangerous."

"Doesn't seem so dangerous to me," he shrugged. "Less monsters, less work for me. Also, means it's better for people, right?"

His lover was oddly silent as she seemed to be lost in thought. She was hiding something from him. There was a little something on her face that was out of place.

Fear.

"Keira?" he reached his hand out to her and it was gone.

"Oh, sorry," she said. "Just thinking about my meetings with the lodge. Things have been getting busy there as of late."

"You sure?" frowned Lambert.

Keira held his jaw and kissed him again. "Positive."

"If you say so," smiled Lambert. Another thought popped into his mind. "Wait. If you had all this planned from the start, then that list you gave me…"

"Fake," she chuckled. "Honestly, that part of the plan was what took us the longest part to make. I had thought for sure you would be too prideful to do them all. Or at least realize long enough to understand that it was completely preposterous. Color me surprised when I saw you hopping like a frog onto my doorsteps."

"Us…?" A cold drench of sweat ran down his back.

"Us," smirked Keira. "Didn't I tell you that I promised the girls I would give them all the details, right? They actually helped in making that list."

"Keira," warned Lambert, "Don't do—"

"I don't really need to do anything though," she cut him off. "They most likely already saw everything by now. See that little device by my front window pointed outside? It's a modified megascope that records rather than projects images in real time."

No wonder Lambert found the list so suspicious. He could already tell which of the girls put some of it down on the list. Ciri most likely did the tamer ones. Triss, no doubt, had him do the complex series of orders. And Yennefer? He could already her laughing at how much of an idiot he had made himself out of.

"My life is over…" he groaned. When that recording made it to the guys…. Well, he'll never hear the end of it. He knew, because if it had been anyone else he would do the same thing.

"Don't be so dramatic," chided Keira. "You can't die from embarrassment. Trust me. Mages have tried that experiment before. All they succeeded in doing was proving that someone's face _could_ be red as an apple."

"I supposed it could be worse," said Lambert tiredly. "That thing could've been pointed inside the house rather than out."

"Yes…" agreed Keira. "Think positive thoughts."

She didn't tell him, but she had another one set up hidden on top of her bookshelf. That one she wanted to keep private. After all, her lover might actually be the first person to die of embarrassment if she let the others see what they did in all their depraved, perverse, immoral, and wickedly fun night. For now, she would be quite content in replaying that memory all to herself in her _alone_ time.

Although… she was curious to know how it would feel to have someone watch them as they did such inexplicable acts. She took a quick peek at her lover who was now soundly sleeping.

Perhaps one step at a time.

Though the room and bed were warm, Lambert couldn't help but shiver in his sleep at that moment.

* * *

"Time to get up. We have a long road ahead of us."

Lambert woke to his pants to his face. Not the best way to start the day, though, he wasn't going to complain about it when it was accompanied by the smell of freshly cooked food and the sight of the best bum in all of the Northern Realms.

"What are you grinning for?" asked Keira.

"Just looking forward to a decent meal for once."

"My poor boy." Keira dropped a plateful of eggs, bacon, and sweet bread in front of him. "It must've been horrid eating mostly stale bread on the road."

It wasn't exactly like that. Witchers knew how to brew potions and build bombs, so they still knew a thing or two about cooking an edible meal for themselves. After all, food is important to survival in the harsh road. Still, the food they made wasn't quite the same as what Keira always made for him. And what Eskel made only barely cuts it at what can be considered as "edible."

So maybe he did grow a little spoiled.

"Did I tell you how much I've missed you?" The sizzling bacon on his plate had made his water mouth before he even saw it.

"About six or seven times last night," said Keira in thought. "First time today, though."

So he was spoiled. He didn't care. Not at that moment anyway.

After eating, they both packed what they needed for the rest of their journey. Lambert hadn't stayed long there, but he could already tell he was going to miss that place.

"First inn we see, I'm booking a room immediately," announced Keira. "Last night wasn't nearly enough to satisfy your time away from me."

Okay. Maybe he wouldn't miss it that much.

"Not that I'm complaining, but—"

"You're wondering why I'm coming along with you?" finished Keira. "Well, in truth, I would have gone with you first thing if I could. Been the longest time we've been away from each other since we first met."

"It's only been a few months," said Lambert. Though, he did spend much of that time complaining about it to Geralt and Eskel. Not that he said so directly to them. Also, not that he needed to considering how much they joked about it to him.

Apparently, whatever the woman they were looking for really was, it had gotten the full attention of the Lodge of Sorceresses. Yennefer and Triss had both called for the meeting between all of them. Avallac'h was in attendance as well. It was there that Keira knew of the task given to the three witchers, and being rather attached to one of those witchers, she'd naturally told him of it.

"The nature of this quest has been deemed far too important to be delayed," answered Keira. "Months of research and spellcraft had only served to solidify our theories regarding this woman. The faster she is in our care, the better it is for everyone. I'm not the only sorceress out looking for her. Yen and Triss should be going on the search as well as soon as they are done making sure that nothing else beside her had come through the Conjunction of Spheres."

"Why is it that I find myself doing hero work rather than honest witcher work these days?" he sighed.

"I know you love it," teased Keira. "You pretend to feel how much of a pain it is, but I know how eager you are whenever someone in real need asks for your help."

"What?" scoffed Lambert. "Me? You sure? I'm not that kind."

"Admit it," she insisted. "You moaned and whined about how Geralt needed you on another quest to save the world, but you never once said that you would turn him down. You like being needed. I know you must've enjoyed being together again with them."

"They're practically my brothers!" he defended. "I can't just leave them when they need help. Who knows what would happen to them if they don't have me around?"

"They would be fine." Keira rolled her eyes at him. "You know them. This isn't the first time they had to do something like this on their own. If you had turned them down, they could've gone to ask some other witcher to help them. You aren't the only witchers in this world, you know?"

True enough.

"I'm not just any witcher," said Lambert.

Keira laughed. She trotted her horse near his and slapped his behind.

"That's right," she winked at him. "You're _my_ witcher."

"Not too hard!" Lambert rubbed his still tender ass. The journey on horseback is already going to be rough enough on him as it is. It was most certainly true that last night's fun had definitely left its mark.

"I'll make sure you never forget that."

* * *

"Ahahaha-hahaha!"

The laughter of women rang throughout the underground room. They couldn't help themselves as they watched the projection on the stone wall in front of them. Even an elf of the Aen Saevherne could not help but smirk from behind them. After all, even in all his time and knowledge, he had never seen a witcher hop on one foot as he sang an awful rendition of _A Dwarf's Supple Arse!_

"Ah, that was beautiful." Ciri was teary-eyed as she struggled to stop herself from bursting into another fit of laughter.

"I had no clue he even knew the song!" said Triss, still laughing.

The girls made bets on how far along the list Lambert would get to before he realized he was tricked. None had even considered that he would go through all of it.

Yennefer coughed. "As amusing as this may be, you really have to be on your way, Ciri."

"Oh, please!" begged Ciri. "Please, just one more! The next one is one of mine."

Yennefer waved her hand at the projection on the wall. The image of Lambert shaking his hips to and fro disappeared, much to the disappointment of those who were watching.

"Come now," said Yennefer. "You already said that twice before. Go. Gather your belongings."

Ciri sighed but reluctantly agreed. She left the room to do as she was told.

"Do you have everything you need?" asked Avallac'h as he came up to Triss.

"Yes," she nodded. "I've made some preliminary preparations for our arrival so it shouldn't take us long to have things ready. I'll inform you of the details once I've checked with my sources there."

"Be sure to take care of Ciri," said Yennefer. "She's matured but…"

"I'll be sure to keep an eye on her," reassured Triss. "Though I'm sure there aren't many things she can't handle by herself now. She isn't a child anymore, Yen. You shouldn't worry too much."

Yennefer sighed. "I understand that. Still, I would go as well if I was not needed here."

Though Avallac'h was an elven sage, he had paid a heavy price for the curse lifted from him during the time with the Wild Hunt. He required the help of at least one sorceress to continue with his research. Seeing as Triss was the more familiar of the two with where they would be going, Yennefer had no choice but to stay. At least for the time being.

As soon as their baggage was ready, Ciri opened up a portal. A black tear appeared in the sitting room of Avallac'h's home. The air hummed and vibrated coming from the portal. She finally had enough control over her power that the elf did not mind her opening portals in his own home anymore.

"Try and not to get into too much trouble." Yennefer hugged Ciri.

"No promises," smiled Ciri.

Yennefer took something out from her pocket and handed it to her.

"What's this?" asked Ciri, looking at the item in her palm.

"A megascope crystal," said Yennefer. "I thought you might want to finish watching Lambert make a fool of himself."

"Oh, thank you!" Ciri gave her another quick hug.

Once Ciri and Triss entered the portal, the black tear closed up. Only Avallac'h and Yennefer remained in the room.

"Things will be quieter without them," said the elf.

"Yes," agreed Yennefer.

Without Ciri and Geralt with her, she hadn't really felt quite so alone in such a long time now. Though she knew it to be only temporary, it was still a feeling she did not like.

"A pity you never finished watching the crystal," said Avallac'h.

Yennefer gave a pleased smirk. "Who's to say I would not? The thing about these megascope recordings is... that it's so easy to make copies of them."

At least she had a way to pass the loneliness by watching an entertaining fool humiliate himself.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **It's really amazing the depth and personality of every character in the Witcher. I'm working on the next chapter, so I hope I can have that out soon. Maybe or maybe not. I'll probably keep going until I hit the inevitable writer's block. I'm still deciding on the path for the current plot and exploring the possibility of another one.**

 **As always, please read and review.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I own neither Bloodborne or The Witcher. This work is merely fanfiction, and as such, earns me no income whatsoever. Please don't sue me, I'm really poor.**

* * *

"Remember the last time you were here?"

Geralt thought back to the last time he visited Oxenfurt. It was just after the war with Nilfgaard was over. Peace had returned to the city, however, many important things had been lost. Many men had died, knowledge lost, and the emotional baggage that lingered from the war.

"It has been a while," said Geralt. He saw that time had indeed healed the scars on the city. The people on dirt road they trotted along was busy, with folk travelling in and out of the city. Merchants hawked their wares by the side, even though they were still on the outskirts of the city. It must mean that public security was good and that criminal activities were low if they were that confident to do business so far out of the city.

"I must insist that you are mistaken!"

Well, it didn't seem to be all that well.

"Witch Hunters," whispered Eskel.

Coarse and angry looking men in the leather uniform of the order surrounded a middle-aged man further up the path. They appeared to be accosting the man as bystanders passed and whispered from the sidelines, not daring to interfere.

"What are ye?!" demanded a witch hunter with a misshapen nose, shoving the man in front of him with a single hand. His other hand held a weird stick with silver cylindrical bells. "The Wand of Silverlight reacted to you! Are you a monster or a mage? It'll only sound at things that don't belong in this world!"

"That bauble is nothing but a toy!" The man being accosted adjusted his tousled jerkin. "Don't pretend it's anything else but! Not even an arrow's flight ago did it sound from a man's vegetables!"

"And we did right by it by chopping 'em cabbages like the foul spawn of evil that they were!"

"Wand of Silverlight?" said Geralt to Eskel. "Wasn't that the thing that travelling merchant tried to sell us back at Kaer Morhen a decade ago?"

"Yeah. Vessemir tossed him out and threatened to feed him to a kikkimora if he ever came back there."

"I remember," smiled Geralt. "Got a good laugh out of it. Thought he'd pop a vein when the merchant pulled out a gold-plated sword claiming that it was better than the silver swords we use. Lambert had to hold him back from using the sword on the merchant."

"Good times."

Once the witchers got closer, Geralt was surprised to find a familiar face. The man being accosted was none other than his old friend Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy. A good friend of his that worked as a barber-surgeon and has a good taste for liquor, which he likes to brew himself, even going so far as picking up the materials from places far and abroad.

He was also a very _real_ and very powerful higher _vampire_.

"You either come with us or we can cut you down where you stand!" The witch hunter pulled out his sword, no doubt already sure he would do the latter.

"There a problem here?" Geralt parked roach next to them.

Another witch hunter seemed to recognize them by the swords on their back and whispered something quickly to his overzealous comrade. Regis was quick to recognize Geralt, of course, but stayed silent to see how he would play this out. The vampire was a pacifist, but that doesn't mean he'd let these men kill him in cold-blood.

"Witchers?" snorted the witch hunter. "Like we need you freaks protecting our own. Can't you see us real men cleansing the world with the light of the Eternal Fire? Be on your way. This man is to be taken into our custody for further interrogation."

"And that's according to that bauble of yours?" said Geralt.

"It is a Wand of Silverlight! Not a bauble!" The witch hunter was red in the face. "It can reveal evil just by pointing it at its direction. This device is a very valuable and very reliable item that can only be used by men of true character. Men with doubt in their minds cannot possibly see through its miracles!"

"Straight from the pamphlet," whispered Eskel.

Geralt pulled his witcher medallion from inside his armor. "See this? It's a witcher's medallion. It vibrates whenever it senses the presence of monsters or magic close by. It's what all witchers wear and use in our profession for generations. Tested and proven with our lives." He held it towards Regis. There was no sign of it reacting whatsoever. "Satisfied?"

"But this bauble—!"

"—must have cost you ten crowns, when it isn't even worth one. You got swindled. Let me guess, a travelling merchant sold it to you for a hundredth of its true cost because he knows you have what it takes to make this world a better place with it?"

The witch hunter grimaced. No doubt he remembered that exact line from said merchant.

"Piece of advice?" said Geralt. "Even if you had something as convenient as a witcher's medallion, it wouldn't be able to tell you what's evil or what's not. It's not that easy. You'll have to figure that out yourself. Hopefully you'll find that not all things are as evil as they seem. Kind of like that cabbage you slaughtered. It may be disgusting for some, but it's good for you."

"Damn piece of junk!" The witch hunter threw his bauble on the ground. "Come on, lads! That lying piece of horseshit might still be around!"

As soon as the men were out of sight, Regis went and picked up the dropped item, examining it with some amusement. "The things men do to make even a single coin never ceases to amaze me."

"It got you, didn't it?" smirked Geralt. "I might have to reconsider its uselessness since it seemed to work on higher vampires, unlike my medallion."

"Oh?" Regis smiled as he threw the bauble away, sinking into a pit of mud. "And I suppose you'll be adding carrots, cabbages, tomatoes, and other vegetables to your bestiary?"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves here. Unlike those men, I like to think myself more intellectually capable. Tomato is a fruit, not a vegetable. It gets a free pass, for the time being."

Geralt unsaddled himself and dropped to the ground, where he held arms with the vampire and greeted each other with warmth.

"It's been a long time, Geralt," said Regis. "I do wish we'd meet in under better circumstances, though."

"I'm fine with it. Having a friend like Dandelion, you get used to meeting friends in less than merry circumstances and be ready to dive in and pull them out of it."

"Married life hasn't settled him?"

"Had to rescue him from some drowners after he was thrown off a river by 'Jealous men that has not even a single taste bud for art.' Priscilla can't watch him all the time."

"So same as always," nodded Regis.

Geralt and Eskel decided to walk the rest of the way with Regis. Their horses needed the rest anyway and the city was close. It was nice to catch up with an old friend. Geralt hadn't seen Regis since that time at Toussaint. Given his trouble with other vampires then, it's understandable why they haven't met for such a long time.

"Not that I'm unhappy to see you, Regis," said Geralt, "But what are you doing here? Is that thing with the higher vampires over?"

Regis sighed. "It will never be over, Geralt. What I had done is something that cannot be forgiven by my kind. It's not something time can heal. As for why I am here… well, I came here to investigate a rather important matter."

"Something I should know?"

The vampire seemed reluctant until he said, "…A week or two ago, a higher vampire is said to have been killed somewhere here in Velen. I don't suppose you had anything to do with that?"

"Came across a few lesser vamps that needed killing, but no higher vampires," said Eskel. He'd been quiet around the vampire, but only now did he break it since the topic became work related. Whilst he trusted Geralt's judgement, he was still lukewarm to the idea of having a vampire as a friend.

"A higher vampire isn't so easy to kill," said Geralt. "Could've been a mage or even maybe another witcher. Still, would be quite the feat to kill one. Though, I don't see why you're interested in this? It's not every day you hear about it, but it does happen. Why the need to investigate it?"

"Whilst it's not impossible for us to be killed, you need only look to my own experiences to confirm that, it is a lot harder for us to be killed _permanently_ ," said Regis.

Higher vampires, unlike the lesser species of their kind, are far more powerful in almost every way than even the most dangerous of monsters. Aside from their numerous abilities such as, turning invisible, mental manipulation, invulnerability to sunlight, fire, and a multitude of other characteristics that make them far more formidable than most kinds of monsters a witcher may face, they also have unbelievable regenerative powers that allow them to return to life after their supposed "death." Regis himself had been ripped apart and melted into glass by a mage before. Though it took many years, the vampire did eventually return to the world of the living.

"Permanently?" Geralt raised an eyebrow in question. "Killed by a higher vampire?"

It was the only way that a higher vampire can be killed, as was what Regis had done in Toussaint that earned him the ire of his kind. It was one of the few crimes that their kind will not tolerate.

"No, Geralt." Regis shook his head. "That is the problem. The higher vampire was not killed by our own. It was done by someone else. At least, so I was told."

"How can you be sure?"

"There was another higher vampire—a survivor of that encounter. It is through her familiars that I heard the news. She sent them out wide across the lands to the ears of every one of our kind, pleading to help her as she had been injured and unable to flee far from her pursuer. Though the case of someone other than a vampire permanently killing one of our own is ludicrous and begs investigation, the majority of us will most likely choose to ignore her pleas."

"Not like I expected much from vampires," said Eskel, "But why won't they help her?"

"Many of us like to think us better than our lesser blood-drinking kin," said Regis proudly. "However, there are still quite a lot of us that cannot quench their thirst for blood. This higher vampire had been found to have been secretly doing so. In a most deplorable manner as well. As such, she is disdained by those of us who do not." He sighed. "Still, there will likely be some sympathizers who will answer her call. I can't say that all of us have chosen the better path. Some will not leave behind our blood-soaked ways."

Higher vampires can blend in undetectable in human society. They do not need to feed on blood like the common vampires that plague the lands. Most are actually law-abiding citizens in wherever country they dwell in, usually with power and riches that they've taken for themselves using their supernatural abilities.

"The one who killed the higher vampire—know who it is?" Geralt had a suspicion of who it might be. "The other vampire must have said something."

"Unfortunately, no. Her message was short and panicked. She did not spare much detail into it aside from what had happened and her asking for help."

Geralt glanced at his fellow witcher, who nodded his understanding. "I don't suppose you need our help with this, Regis? Seeing as if you continue to investigate this, you'll likely meet your brethren… and most likely attack you on sight for what you did. No doubt the killing of another higher vampire would put them on edge too. You probably won't even get a chance to speak."

"That is… a likely course to happen," admitted Regis. "If it were only me and the surviving higher vampire, it may have been more civil. Even with my crime, she wouldn't attack without greeting me first."

"Sounds like you know this vampire?"

"I do," nodded Regis. "And so do you, in fact."

"What…?"

Regis stopped walking and turned to Geralt with all seriousness and answered, "The higher vampire… you met her in Beauclair—Orianna. She's the higher vampire that survived the encounter."

After they walked passed the bridge connecting to the city of Oxenfurt, the high walls of the city seemed much darker and foreboding now that the witchers knew what to expect inside. Somewhere hidden within its walls are a nest of blood-drinking higher vampires. It is in this large Redanian city, a bustling and bawdy haven for students, scholars, artists, and merchants, that they must seek out a single woman… the predator or the prey. Of both they are unsure which is which.

* * *

 ** _Two weeks ago…_**

"My lady, the night is upon us. Though we are close to the village of Mulbrydale, I'm afraid travelling in the darkness is much too dangerous. We must seek shelter."

The light of the sun was quick to extinguish. Lady Maria and her witch hunter companion, Byron Tralfor, had ridden from Lurtch village after hunting down monsters in the area. They had stayed there for a week, Lady Maria offering them her aid in dispatching monsters and their nests, before setting off in the morning.

"There!" said Byron. "I see a light! It's a building made of stone. Curious, I don't remember this place being here a few years ago. We need only ask the people for shelter. I'm sure they will gladly assist us, my lady."

Lady Maria nodded her agreement.

The building was far larger than Byron had thought it to be. It was easily twice the size of the stone abbey from his home town. Though all was quiet, the single burning lamp by the doorway indicated that it was inhabited.

"Is there anyone inside?" The witch hunter pounded hard on the double doors to the building. "We are travelers seeking shelter from the darkness. By the light of the Eternal Fire, I swear we are people of good faith."

The rattling of chains can be heard and opening of a lock. The door opened slightly ajar to reveal the eyes of a young woman. She stared at the witch hunter before moving on to Lady Maria. Her eyes seemed to widen a bit at seeing her before moving back to the witch hunter.

"The Eternal Fire?" she asked Byron. "A witch hunter?"

"Yes," nodded Byron. "I am of the order. The lady beside me is of foreign lands, and I guide her to the city of Novigrad. Kind woman, I do not ask for your hospitality, though it would be appreciated. We simply seek shelter for the night to pass."

"A moment, please."

The door was once more locked. All was silent outside as they waited for the woman to come back. At least the lamp gave them some small refuge from the night, cold as it was. After a few minutes of waiting, the door opened wide. Standing inside to greet them was the young woman from earlier, smiling warmly at them. The light from the torches made her features clear. A lovely young woman with an oval face and full lips.

"The Orphanage of Warm Hearth welcomes you!"

Byron stepped inside to the lit halls of the building, followed slowly by Lady Maria from behind. The witch hunter seemed perplexed as he gazed at the magnificent arches and well-furnished hall of the orphanage.

"This place is an orphanage?"

"Yes," nodded the dark-haired woman. "My name is Cara. I am one of the caretakers here."

Cara gestured for them to follow. They passed the long hall, moving deeper inside. Though it was chilling to the bone outside, warm air filled the hall.

"I must confess, I had never heard of this place." Byron marveled at the architecture and other decorations. His hand traced the oiled wood of a canvas. "Does this not seem a little too extravagant for an orphanage? Especially one so far from the city. The prices on some of the furniture alone could probably feed a whole village for a week."

Cara giggled in response. "Our orphanage is sponsored by wealthy nobles from Oxenfurt. The lady—she visits us often, and desires this place to be helpful whilst also being pleasing to her eyes. In fact, it is with her permission that she has graciously asked that you join her for supper."

"We are to join a noble for supper?" said Byron, surprised. "That is most gracious of her. Our hosts are most kind, Lady Maria. I am happy to know that you will not have to suffer my bumbling attempts of what may pass off as a meal."

"You think too little of yourself, Byron." Maria gave him a gentle smile. "I have no complaints of what you have worked hard to make. I am grateful for it."

"I am but a humble man of my order," nodded Byron appreciatively.

"Well, your supper here will be anything but humble, I'm afraid," laughed Cara. She opened a door into the dining area. Sitting on the far end of a long table was a beautiful woman with red hair. Her dress and jewelry were obviously of fine make and expensive, yet they were only second to her beauty. She greeted them, raising her cup of wine at their arrival.

"Greetings and welcome, weary travelers. I offer you hospitality within these walls. Sit with us and share our meals. I only ask that you tell us your stories, to better pass the time in enjoyment."

"Thank you," bowed Byron, taking off his cap. "Your hospitality is most appreciated, my lady."

"Please," laughed the noblewoman, the light of the candles flickering in her eyes. "Such formalities are best left in the city. I came here for a little respite from all of that. Call me Orianna."

* * *

The supper was magnificent. Roasted chicken that was moist to the cut, succulent pig with an apple on its mouth, mouth-watering potato and stew that teases the nose—It was a feast alright. The kind that only nobles could afford to eat. There was only one mild problem.

"Is the food not to your liking?"

Byron's frowning and hesitation mixed on his face had been quite obvious. It was, however, understandable—his hesitation. The last time he'd seen a feast was on that horrid night when a witch had put a glamour on the butchered limbs and bodies of monsters and men. Meat from his own comrades was added to it soon after. Any man, after seeing that, would be wary at any food set at their table.

"It's a… uh, quite exquisite," he said nervously. "So much so that I have trouble believing what I'm seeing…"

He most likely would have continued to stare at the food until the light of dawn had Lady Maria not taken the first bite. She had cut a small piece of the roasted meat and delivered it to her mouth.

"It is quite savory," she said.

Seeing her eat, Byron seemed to have finally found his appetite, as he now devoured the food before him with much fervor. His enthusiasm surprised their hosts quite a bit due to his earlier reluctance. After taking a few more bites and emptying a glass or two, their host asked of them their travel.

"I'm afraid Sir Ballard and I have not traveled much past Oxenfurt and this place for quite some time." A tall nobleman beside Orianna bowed to them. Unlike Orianna, he seemed to look at them with more coldness in his eyes. "Your tales we would gladly welcome as we let the food simmer a bit in our bellies."

With some food and some wine in his stomach, the witch hunter was more than happy to tell them his tale. He told them of how he came to be with the order, how he joined them after his family had been killed by packs of ghouls during the great Northern war with Nilfgaard. He had no one else and nothing but the burning hatred for the monsters that had taken his family from him. Though his family was slain, their village was saved thanks to the arrival of men of the Eternal Fire, witch hunters. It was then that he offered himself truly and faithfully to the order.

"A sad tale indeed," nodded Orianna. "One that is far too common among us nowadays. The war had left the kingdoms weakened as the monsters run amok in the lands they've devastated. Though the kingdoms of men are at peace, the monsters of old have flourished. Due to that second Conjunction of Spheres, the world is once more beset by terrible creatures from other worlds we once thought extinct. There are even cases of new ones we've never known appearing. Only near the major cities are the people relatively safe. Sir Ballard and I have invested heavily into this orphanage, yet there are still many children that are left forgotten. We can only take in so much."

"…The orphans here?" asked Lady Maria. "Have they eaten?"

"The children had taken their supper and are asleep in their rooms," assured Cara, she stood beside Orianna. "There is not much else for them to do once night has set. It is best for them to rest and sleep it away the night until the morning light. I am sad to say that many of them know this from experience."

Unwanted children wandering the dark are quick to vanish. No one goes looking for them. Be it done by the will of men or monsters, most will ignore it. Their fellow street urchins could only quietly mourn their loss come the daytime.

"Aye," agreed Byron. "It is only with the help of nobles such as yourselves that my order is able to take in orphans as well, though we take those only who are fit enough for our training." He grimaces at the thought. "We can only take those who can fight. Even the light of the Eternal Fire cannot fill the bellies of every child lost in the world. We do what we can for those we can save. Only those in the cities have the luxury of staying awake once darkness sets in. Though, I find it strange that this place so far from the city can stand by itself without men guarding it. Even my order's outposts are not free from the touch of vile monsters."

"Which is why this place is made of stone," answered Orianna. "Sir Ballard here had most generously offered the services of a mage he personally procured to cast spells that hide this place from monsters. It has been four years since these walls were built, and not a monster had ever stepped foot here."

"And bandits? With such extravagance here, this place would surely attract the eyes of such men."

Orianna had taken a long sip of her wine before saying, "Perhaps the monster that couldn't find this place found them instead? We don't get many visitors here at all. Still, the children are well-cared for here. They see no reason to leave outside the safety of its walls. It is a dangerous world out there after all."

"Of which we would like to hear what part of it _you_ came from, Lady Maria," said Sir Ballard. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "I must say that never in all my time have I ever seen such clothing before, and I have traveled far and wide for the longest time before settling at my current residence in Oxenfurt. There is something different… quite different about you."

Lady Maria crossed her legs and held her hands together in a manner befitting one of noble lineage.

"I could say the same to you," she said, as she stared straight at them. A heavy silence fell upon the room as the nobles at the table seemed to just sit and stare at each other from opposite ends. Byron noticed the heavy atmosphere but could only drink his cup in silence.

"You must be tired from your long journey," finally said Orianna, breaking the atmosphere with a bright smile as she placed her cup on the table. "I know I am. Cara will show you to your quarters. I hope you've had a pleasant evening with us."

And just like that supper was over. As she had said, Cara showed them the way to their quarters. She left them in front of their quarters at a dimly lit corridor.

"That was rather… sudden," commented Byron.

"Byron," called Lady Maria.

"Yes, my lady?"

"Stay in the room." Lady Maria looked at him seriously. "No matter what you may hear—No matter the cause, do not leave it unless I return here. Wait and have your sword ready. Things are not as they seem."

Byron frowned. He was momentarily confused by the request, but ascertained that danger must roam the walls if that is what her ladyship says. "Will you not allow me to help you at least?"

Lady Maria smiled at him. "You are a brave one, I make no mistake of that. However, I fear the beasts here will find you easy prey. Even I fear my confidence may waver against them. It is better for me to fight alone so that I may focus on them."

Byron sighed, then nodded. "Though I would gladly die fighting by your side, I shall agree with your decision. Though it pains me to admit, you have far more experience than I. I will have my blade ready and pray to the Eternal Fire for your safe return."

Lady Maria walked through the corridor they have just passed earlier, though the torches on the walls no longer burned. Through the darkness, she found herself at the center of the orphanage, a wide open courtyard with a fountain at the middle of it. The night sky was overcast, but it was still better than the total blackness inside.

"Out for a stroll, are we?"

From the shadow of a pillar, Sir Ballard came out to the green of the courtyard. He held his head high with his hands behind his back and a smirk on his face. He walked up to the fountain, opposite of Maria. Though he wore thick boots, his footsteps were oddly silent.

"I must say you have me intrigued," he said. "Never before have I encountered one such as you. Come, shall you not accompany me as you share more about yourself? Your tale ran short during our most pleasant supper. Orianna did you such a disservice by ending it so early. Why not leave your weapons by the fountain? They seem awfully heavy for such a lovely lady as yourself."

Instead of doing as she's told, Maria unsheathed her blades. "Such a fearsome thing, beasts that whisper sweetened words such as yours. How many have fallen to it?"

"Oh? So it was as she had suspected." Sir Ballard's smile turned fierce. "You seem to know what we are. Sadly, I can't seem to say the same about you. We have a keen nose, you understand? A heightened sense for detecting prey. It is what we are born with. It is because of this that I can hear the heartbeats and breaths of even the smallest of prey. But what I find truly magnificent is the scent—the blood the runs through their veins. The sweetest scent comes from the children sleeping inside their rooms here." He smacked his lips. "Even though I've taken my fill earlier, just talking about it has sent me craving for more."

In the next moment, as if a trick of the light, Sir Ballard's handsome face vanished and was replaced by a hideous visage.

"You, however, I cannot sense as such," he snarled. "I cannot smell your blood, nor taste your fear even after seeing me change before you. Even witchers perspire at the sight of a higher vampire."

"If it is fear you wish to taste, then you'll find none in me," said Maria. "Though if it is blood you seek, then I shall be happy to oblige. My own seeks yours." The clouds soon parted, allowing the full moon to bathe them in its light. She pointed her moonlit blade at him. "It calls to me… It sings to me… Therefore… I must spill your blood. The very essence of beasts and Hunters."

"It is your blood that I shall have!"

Sir Ballard pounced on her and their battle began…

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **I haven't updated in a while because I've been having problems with putting my thoughts into words. I am not sure what I can do to fix it, but I still want to continue writing. The problem is that I just can't use right words.**

 **I'm hoping I can just trudge on through it by continuously writing. I am assuming that action will lower the quality of the posts though. Bear with me as I get out of this slump.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I own neither Bloodborne or The Witcher. This work is merely fanfiction, and as such, earns me no income whatsoever. Please don't sue me, I'm really poor.**

* * *

His hot breath steamed from the cold night air of the courtyard. Many of the lavish stone decorations around him was obliterated or partly broken. Even the beautiful garden had chunks of it torn asunder. He felt displeased by this. He had, after all, paid for most of it. It might have been okay if there had been at least a fruit born from this destruction.

The higher vampire called Sir Ballard raised his eyes at what he had thought was a succulent, low-hanging fruit.

Ashen haired and about as pale as one of his own kind, she stood before him with her blades extended and held with steady hands. Though they've fought without pause just a moment ago, her breathing had not changed. It was calm and steady as when the battle had begun.

Lady Maria… He'd underestimated her. The woman was far more troublesome than he'd expected.

His thoughts wandered back to earlier that evening. Orianna had cautioned him not to make haste and that they should leave them be. She wanted no attention to this little blood cellar of theirs. A witch hunter vanishing from their doorsteps may lead his comrades to investigate. Rich as they both were, they had invested a sizable sum into this place. It was laughable to think that weak men like them would be a danger to them, but their attention would dry up the orphans that they would take. Not to mention such news would be bound to reach the ears of a witcher.

Still, he had fought a witcher before. But her? He hadn't fought anyone like her.

He had pounced, expecting her to be unable to react to his supernatural speed. She avoided it with ease. What had really surprised him was that he was the one who had barely avoided her blade that came down on him. It had given him a feeling of dread the moment she had unsheathed it. The faint scent that lingered on it caused him to lose his appetite as soon as it touched his nostrils.

Orianna would not help him end this fight quickly, not after he had chided her for her caution and boasted of handling the matter himself. Still, that did not leave him all alone.

"In all my long life, I have never met a woman like you," he chuckled with amusement. "It is clear to me that you are familiar with fighting my kind. It is truly a pity that you had not shared your tale with us. I trust it would be of most interest."

She remained silent. Her eyes were focused on him.

"Come now," he continued, "It is impolite for a guest to not speak to her host. Have you nothing to say?"

"I prefer the snarls and growls of beasts to your sweet prose," she said. "Even the wailings of the demented and cursed are far better."

He snorted. At least he now had her attention.

"Our time is short, you understand? It would be best if we spent what little exchange we have in it with dignity and respect."

In a flash, Lady Maria had spun her blade on her right hand and slashed behind her. Cara's decapitated head fell to the ground. The bruxa was invisible to the naked eye as she tried to attack her from behind. Sir Ballard clicked his tongue in disappointment. It would seem that she had somehow sensed her presence.

"How unfortunate," said Sir Ballard. "She was good at her work. It will be difficult to find a replacement."

"That will no longer be of any concern to you."

Rage built up until Sir Ballard let out a deafening roar. There was only so much he could tolerate. The woman had spurned and vexed him. And those eyes of hers—She looked at him as if he was nothing more than prey. As one who considers himself to be of the highest in the food chain, he could not forgive those eyes.

He charged and closed the distance between them in an instant, swiping his elongated claws down at her. However, she once again moved like the wind, easily avoiding his attack. She retaliated with a swift strike of her own to his head.

"Gaaah!" Sir Ballard jumped back. He had tried to avoid it, but she had landed a hit on his shoulder. His blood flowed from the wound. He saw that it had bled profusely. There was a searing pain that he felt similar to that of a silver sword. "What is that—?!"

He was so surprised from the wound that he had lost focus on his opponent for but a moment. It was all that Lady Maria needed.

Just as her blades was about to take his head, she was blown away, skidding on her feet with her blades up in defense. Looking up, he saw Orianna standing in front of him.

"I have this under control!" he shouted angrily.

"Is that so?" Orianna looked at him vehemently. "Should I have continued to observe? Do not be a fool! Had I not intervened, you would have most certainly lost your head!"

Sir Ballard steamed, but backed down. Her words rang true.

He didn't want to admit it, but he would have died if not for her. He understood she didn't do so from the kindness of her heart. Regenerating from a decapitation would have taken some time. Time he would be unable to manage his assets and estates. She'd likely have to pick up the slack in his work.

"Pick yourself up!" commanded Orianna. "It is time we put an end to this."

Their opponent eyed them warily. To fight two higher vampires at the same time would be folly. The most that awaited her would be a quick death, one that Sir Ballard had no intention of giving if it were up to him.

"As I thought," said Lady Maria, relaxing her blades by her side. "I would not be able to come out uninjured in this hunt. You wished for my blood,? Then I shall give it to you."

She flipped her blades and pointed them inward, causing the two higher vampires to watch in confusion. In one movement, she stabbed herself with them, pushing them quickly until the blades were sticking from her back.

Sir Ballard could not help but gag. It was not from the gore of the sight. He was a vampire. Such gruesome acts was something he was accustomed to. The reason he had done so was due to the overwhelming stench that came from her. He had never before smelled such a foul blood in his entire being.

"You…"

He was not the only one. Orianna's face was contorted in disgust. She held an arm up to cover her nose.

Slowly, Lady Maria pulled her blades out of her—her blood almost audibly pouring from her wounds. Instead of spilling to the ground, it clung to her blades—coating them entirely in a deep shade of red. She held those wicked blood blades at her sides.

"I agree," she said to them, "It is time for this hunt to end."

* * *

Orianna hastily moved through the forest. She stopped for a moment to lean on a tree. The pain had begun to flare once more. She clutched at her side with gasping breaths until the pain subsided once more. She held out her hand that was covered in blood. Her blood.

She couldn't believe this was happening to her.

Forced to flee from her own property, fearing for her life. She had never felt so terrified before—so fragile. She had always thought that such a thing was for beings other than those like her. Having to face true death, fear had entirely gripped her heart in a vice.

"I have to… I must keep moving," she said to herself. Had she known what she knew now, she would have abandoned that orphanage as soon as that woman arrived at their doors. "That stupid, stupid man!"

Had Sir Ballard listened to her, things might have ended up differently. She seethed at the thought of his arrogance, cursing him for his actions. It was unfortunate that she could no longer take her anger at him directly. His death was not an easy one. Having been cut by that blood-coated blade caused him to shriek and thrash in unimaginable pain.

It caused Orianna to shudder just remembering it.

He did not last long at least. That woman had ended him quickly. There was no cruelty in her actions. Orianna knew this when she gazed into those eyes. But they were also determined. The eyes of a hunter watching its prey.

She would not let her be.

Orianna needed help. She was in no condition to fight. She wasn't even well enough to escape Velen. Her instincts told her that escape would most likely lead to her death. And her instincts rarely led her wrong. The only course of action was to hide herself until her injuries healed. She had also sent her familiars out earlier, seeking aid from her kin. She was shunned by most of them, but she knew of at least several that would be sympathetic to her plight.

Even with them, she did not plan on getting revenge for Sir Ballard's death. She had no intention of ever getting near that woman ever again. The moment she could, she would leave these lands, far from her.

Breaking through the forest, she saw the sight of the city walls of Oxenfurt. She would hide among its many people. It would be difficult for that woman to find her there.

[LINE BREAK]

"Pardon me for doubting your sincerity to help, Geralt, but I can't help feeling that you have more to do with this than you elaborated."

Regis walked alongside the witchers through the bustling streets of Oxenfurt. Peddlers and merchants of all kinds were aplenty as they passed, hawking their wares to would be customers. The people bartered, argued, and traded with one another in loud voices. City life was livelier and noisier than that of the country.

"What makes you say that?" said Geralt. His eyes wandered through the crowds on the street as they made their way to an inn. Eskel was doing much the same.

Regis couldn't help but chuckle at seeing the two. "Call it a hunch."

Geralt exchanged a brief glance with Eskel before sighing. "Fine. It's just that we also have a hunch that the one after Orianna might be the same person we're looking for."

"Truly?"

Geralt nodded. "We're looking for a woman—A lady that goes by the name of Maria. Ashen hair and about as pale as a ghost probably. Never actually met her. We're trying to track her down in hopes of… convincing her to come with us. Hopefully, not in a sack."

"Sounds difficult," said Regis. "And you didn't seem at all convincing by using a sack."

"Sorry. Lambert kept mentioning it."

"Oh? He's here as well?"

"No." Geralt shook his head. "Might be a good thing. He took a detour to check up on another location the Lady Maria might have gone to. Seeing that she's probably here, he should be heading for Oxenfurt by now. He might take a while to get here though."

"Three witchers?" hummed Regis in thought. "So this lady is most likely not at all human? That might certainly explain why she was able to kill a higher vampire. What manner of creature could she be, though?"

"We're not sure of that," grunted Eskel, tugging on the reigns of his horse to keep him moving through the crowds. "We don't have a lot to go on."

It bothered the witcher a great deal. Part of their training ingrained to them since they were young was that preparation and knowledge were key to hunting down monsters. There wasn't much they knew of her, so they could only make general assumptions and hope for the best. It was jobs like these that a witcher would normally die from. It was no wonder he wasn't too enthusiastic about it.

"We're not aiming to fight her," said Geralt. "We just want to talk with her and, if possible, convince her to go back with us so that Avallac'h can examine her. We just need to find her. Hopefully we can settle all of this peacefully."

Both Regis and Eskel looked at him doubtfully.

"Geralt," said Regis, "You understand that we are currently following the trail of a higher vampire?"

"Yes."

"Probably going to lead to a nest of them," said Eskel.

"Most likely."

"And being tracked by another party that can fight two higher vampires," added Regis. "Not to mention that our party currently includes two witchers and a criminal higher vampire."

"Lambert could probably catch up," reminded Eskel.

"Ah, yes, of course," nodded Regis. "So three witchers then?"

"That could be the case," said Geralt.

"Tell me, Geralt, How often are you wrong about cases like these?"

"Almost every time," sighed Geralt. He'd lost count of just how many times already that has happened to him. "I guess it just helps keep my ever cheery mood up. C'mon, I see the stables."

* * *

After stabling their horses, Geralt and his friends entered the inn. It was rowdy inside, what with people enjoying their midday meals and drinking. The boisterous sounds of people laughing and chatting were mingled with the music played by the entertainment of the establishment. With the city grown in size, so did the business and available services. Peace had certainly brought prosperity to Oxenfurt.

They planned on staying here since this inn was the closest to the city center. They would have a far easier time combing through the city after establishing a base with which they could meet and rest. It would take more than a few days finding someone in a city as large as Oxenfurt. It would certainly take longer if they were trying to find a vampire hiding in it.

"Seems like witch hunters are everywhere now." Eskel gestured towards the innkeeper who was talking to a female witch hunter holding a piece of parchment up to him. She had two of her comrades standing behind her.

"Hoh?" Geralt smiled. "This might make things easier on us."

He walked directly towards them. The innkeeper noticed his arrival, turning his eyes towards him, and causing the female witch hunter to turn around as well.

"Nice to see a familiar face here in Oxenfurt."

"Geralt?"

Tamara Strenger had a faint smile on her face at seeing him. The Bloody Baron's daughter had grown more mature since last he'd seen her. Her dark hair was longer and tied to a ponytail. She carried herself well and emanated a feeling of a veteran soldier. She was incomparable to before in her youth.

"Fancy seeing you here, witcher." She motioned to her two escorts to give way. "It's been a long time since last we met. I heard you'd taken permanent residence down south. I'm surprised to see you here. Have you finally cleaned out all the monsters there? Is that why you're here?"

"I'm just one witcher," said Geralt. "It would be tough to kill every single monster there, even someone with my skills."

"Ah, but it's not just one witcher, is it?" Tamara glanced at Eskel behind him, most likely she noticed the two swords on his back. "I don't suppose the both of you are out on a contract? If not, I could do with a bit of help myself. Even just one of you will do. I promise you the pay will be well worth it."

"Hmmm… Not to be rude, but I'd like to hear the details. People in your order tend to… deviate a lot with the work they give us."

Due to the nature of their beliefs, witch hunters often times view witchers no different than the monsters they hunt. A belief that many people in the world have, but is a lot more… complicated and magnified with witch hunters. Though, there are still those who recognize the skills of a witcher and are more tolerant. Some are glad to have less monsters in the world.

"Very well. Can't say I don't understand," nodded Tamara. She pulled up the parchment she showed earlier to the innkeeper. "We are hunting down a vampire. Here, have a look."

On the parchment was the drawing of a face of a woman with a wanted sign on the top of it. It was obvious to Geralt and Regis who the woman was. It looked as if the witch hunters now know of Orianna and her true nature.

"This vampire had been hiding in Oxenfurt in the guise of a noblewoman for years now," continued Tamara, her voice deep with concern. "She's well-known in the aristocratic circles around here. A social elite that enjoys throwing lavish parties. Quite rich. In fact, she had even made a few small donations to our order as well. No one had suspected a woman like her to have been a vampire."

"Yeah." Geralt took a passing glance at Regis who was examining the parchment as well. "…You really can't tell by their looks."

"Any leads?" asked Eskel.

Tamara shook her head. "Unfortunately, no. We only know that she is hiding somewhere in this city. As we speak, my fellow witch hunters are scouring every corner in hopes of finding where. It will take time, but we will find her. With you witchers here, it may be a shorter hunt than I'd anticipated. That is if you'd join us."

"…And the pay?"

Tamara was true to her word. The bounty on Orianna's head was quite generous indeed. The contract even covered additional payment for any other vampires or monsters that Geralt would slay while on the hunt. She must have risen up really high in the ranks of the order if she was capable of handing out rewards that much. It also means she should know how dangerous the job was going to be.

After accepting the contract, Geralt and his party excused themselves, saying that they would like to rest up first after their long journey before anything else. They paid the innkeeper for their stay, then proceeded to their room.

"…Captain," called the witch hunter beside Tamara, eyeing the leaving witchers and their friend with eyes filled with doubt. "Are you sure we can trust him? And the amount in his contract seems a bit… excess."

"Geralt helped me find my mother and slew the witches that took her," said Tamara. "If there's anyone that can find that vampire, it would be him. A witcher of his renown and skills are not easy to come by. He will be well worth the coin, we can be sure of that."

"Then why did you have Johan shadow them?"

Tamara looked at the picture of the wanted vampire in her hands. "…I trust him to find that vampire. What I want to make sure of is that the monster is killed. She's lived this long from the light of the fire, then she must be quite the foe. We are witch hunters. We shall slay evil wherever dark corners it may hide. To leave all the work in the hands of others would be far too cowardly of us. Trust in the Eternal Fire, Hans. Its light will guide our path."

The witch hunter saluted her. "And we will cleanse this world with it."

Tamara nodded. "Inform the rest of the men when we arrive at headquarters of our contract with the witchers. Tell them they are to cooperate, and any that fail to obey my orders will receive a flogging. See to it that they understand this clearly."

"By your orders," answered the witch hunter. "And what of the reception back at headquarters? Will you be attending?"

Tamara was pensive before answering, "With a vampire on the loose, it will be quite busy. However, I am curious to see as well."

They both exited the inn to the open night skies of the city. Walking briskly, they started on the walk back to the witch hunter order headquarters in Oxenfurt.

"I'd very much like to see the lady who took on two vampires by herself."


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I own neither Bloodborne or The Witcher. This work is merely fanfiction, and as such, earns me no income whatsoever. Please don't sue me, I'm really poor.**

* * *

"Well, that was easy."

Lambert took a good look at the well-maintained stable around them. The journey to Oxenfurt had been far more leisurely than his time with his fellow witchers. Who knew having a beautiful woman along could improve it so much?

"And you thought we'd be late to the party," said Keira as she appeared behind him through the portal they had gone through. "How cute."

"We were moving too slow!" he protested. "I didn't know we were going to use a portal to get here."

Even though they had set off on horseback from Midcopse, Keira hadn't increased their pace to more than a casual trot on the road. By himself, he would have covered three or more times the distance at the speed they were going. Of all the witchers in the School of the Wolf, Lambert had been the most laid back, but that didn't mean he did his job any less than the others.

It wasn't until they reached a hidden, old elven ruins did Keira explain to him that they would be taking a portal directly to an old acquaintance's home in Oxenfurt. It had significantly cut back their travel time by more than a week.

"Yet it took you five days before you complained about how slow we were going," mused Keira with upturned lips.

"I… was being considerate of you."

Lambert avoided her gaze and tied his horse to the side. He didn't want to admit that having her around had lifted much of the urgency of the task given to them. Her food and company were much too distracting. Especially at night when they made camp.

Keira dropped down from her own horse and tied it next to his.

"My, what a gentleman you truly are," she giggled.

Keira sauntered over to him, wrapped her arms around him, and gave him a long, passionate kiss.

"…I'll be sure to show you my own consideration later tonight," she said seductively before parting for the door.

It took Lambert a good minute before he followed after her. He didn't have to deal with things like this when he was with the guys. But then again, he didn't get to eat and sleep like a king when he was with them either.

The house was not large enough to be considered the house of a noble, but it wasn't small or run down enough to be considered a poor house either. Though the furniture all around was neat and tidy, bereft of any tools or items one would normally associate with that of mages, it was still covered with a surprising amount of dust. It seemed as though no one had lived here for quite some time.

Lambert found Keira in a hidden basement connected to the library of the house. The bookshelf that hid the passageway was wide open when he'd entered to find her.

"Looks like no one's been here for years," he commented, seeing her pouring through a book on a work desk by the corner. "I'm glad this acquaintance of yours let us use his personal teleport here and all, but he could at least clean the place every once in a while. And here I thought he'd complain about me not cleaning my boots before stepping inside here."

"Oh, he wouldn't mind that at all," said Keira.

"Really?"

Lambert was curious to know who the mage was. There was more to it than just simple curiosity though. He knew what kind of people mages were. There weren't very many that would offer such help to a mere acquaintance.

"I doubt he'd even utter a word against us burning this place down if we wanted to, seeing as he's been dead for years now." said Keira casually at a turn of a page.

"…What?"

Well, at least the faint hint of jealousy in Lambert's heart died out. Hard to be jealous of someone who's dead after all.

Lambert stared suspiciously at the sorceress busy reading the book in her hand.

"Did you…?" He didn't really want to say it, but sorceress had been known to be quite competitive amongst themselves. In fact a long time ago, he was about as fond of mages as people were of witchers back then.

"What?" Keira finally looked up from her book, noticing that Lambert had a difficult expression on his face. "Are you seriously asking me if I killed him?" she scoffed indignantly. "Is that what you really think of me?"

"I—Well—You—!"

Keira began to laugh whilst holding on to her stomach at seeing him sputter and panic.

"Oh relax, my dear Lambert," she pinched his cheeks. "This is why I can't stay away from you for long. Your reactions are just so precious."

Lambert didn't seem to find it so precious. He was beginning to think that he was at the butt of everyone's joke these days. It used to be he would be the one cracking jokes and making rude statements about everyone.

"You know me so well," said Keira. "Although I can't say I was greatly inconvenienced by his death, since the idea of doing it myself had crossed my mind more than once. We weren't exactly on good terms with each other. Especially not after I threatened to castrate him the next time he got near me. The answer to your question, though? No, I did not kill the mage that owned this place. He died in Radovid's purge, leaving this place mostly forgotten."

"Leaving aside your fondness for men's family jewels, which we will get back to, how did you know about the portal here if you two weren't on good terms?"

According to Keira, the mage had taken quite a liking to her when they had first met. Insistent on bedding her, the mage had given privy to his personal portal in his home. In hopes of sharing more than magic and knowledge, no doubt. Though never to have taken his invitation, Keira had kept the information in mind.

Having a direct shielded portal into Oxenfurt was a good card to keep. Especially now that the presence of witch hunters there had grown.

Keira purchased the house soon after his death. She hadn't given it much thought since.

"Well, aside from the all the dust, it's a pretty nice place," said Lambert. "Why leave it alone for so long?"

The house had a good view of the academy. Since the city's continued growth, the real estate had gone up. It would fetch for a very high price indeed if one were to sell it.

"I was rather content traveling the world with you for one thing," said Keira. "Plus, you know how I feel about these witch hunters. They're all over Redania these days. More so here in Oxenfurt, even though there headquarters had been moved to a castle south of the city. Though the city itself do not officially condone their barbaric actions and treatment of those with magic, they certainly don't limit their presence here."

There was an incident a few years back with some witch hunters beating a young man accused of using foul magic. They had tried to get the young man to confess to doing so, but was met with adamant denial. The witch hunter's lost their patience and decided to just burn him at the stake. The young man would have been burned alive if his father had not arrived with the city guards. It turns out that the young man was an astrologer mapping out the stars. The witch hunters had mistaken his notes and instruments as signs of disreputable magic.

Unfortunately for them, the astrologer was also the son of a high ranking noble in the city. If it was anyone else, they might have gotten off with a slap on the wrist. The noble was understandably outraged at what they did to his son. He did everything he could to get them kicked out of the city.

However, due to the increased activity of monsters in the world, the governing officials of the city were reluctant to fully part with the order. As a sort of compromise, it was made so that the witch hunters would have no permanent stations or properties within the city, but they were still free to enter and leave as they please so long as they followed the city rules.

"Hmm… maybe we should just level the city to the ground?" mused Keira. "It would make our search far more easier. Plus, it would take care of two problems with one spell."

"See! This is why I can't tell if you're being serious or not!"

Keira laughed lightheartedly. "You know I was only joking. Mostly."

"I can't take any more of this today," sighed Lambert. "I'm going to meet up with Geralt and Eskel. They probably didn't think I'd be here so soon."

"Alright. Be sure to comeback before dark."

"What? Are you my mother now?" snickered Lambert.

Keira gave him a most wicked smile filled with bad intentions. "I'm sure your mother won't dare dream of the stuff I will do to you later. But I suppose we could play it like that, if you like?"

Lambert gulped and hurriedly ran for the door. Though, he did make a mental note to himself to be back in time for dinner. He just really liked her cooking. Honestly.

* * *

"Any leads yet?"

Geralt examined the city map of Oxenfurt at their table. He, Eskel and Regis had just gotten back together at their inn after spending a brief time wandering the city for any signs of clues or trouble. It was true that the vampires were in hiding, but a nest of blood-drinking vampires might be sure to leave a trail if they spent too much time in one place. A few missing people here and there would be a good start.

"A few stories about some overgrown lizard in the sewers, but not much else to go on," said Eskel, nursing his mug of mead. "There are a lot of refugees here from far off villages that had been attacked by monsters. Add the number of original people here in the slums, and you've got plenty of bodies here that could vanish without so much as a blink from the city guards."

Outlying villages near Oxenfurt and Tretogor had been susceptible to the increase in monster attacks over the years. Unlike some of the closer villages to the cities, smaller and farther villages were unable to cope with the monsters. This has caused a sharp increase of refugees pouring into safer havens like Oxenfurt. It had proven to be a small boon to the city due to the shortage of manpower after the Nilfgaardian war. It was one of the reasons why the city had experienced exponential growth.

It wasn't all good, though.

The rise in refugees had given rise to cheap labor. There were many merchants and influential people who took advantage of this and began abusing it, causing them to rise in wealth and power. This has caused a greater divide among the people within the city.

"This city has never been more beautiful and more ugly than I've ever seen it before," said Regis sadly. "Will people never learn?"

"Shorter lives, Regis," reminded Geralt. "And an even shorter memory. Few people learn at the beginning of their lives. The rest learn of it far too late or never learn at all. Then all those people will just die off and a new generation will have learn it all over again. We can only hope they learn it much faster than those before them."

"History repeats itself," mumbled Eskel before gulping down his mead.

"I suppose that's why humans are always fond of saying their time is short," said Regis. "They never have enough of it to learn from their mistakes. Though, I suppose one could argue that the elves and other long-lived races are much the same."

"And how long did it take you to learn from your mistakes?"

"…Far too long."

Regis hadn't always been the pacifist he was now. In his darker years in the past, he was wild, bloodthirsty, and uncontrollable. It had taken a few of his deaths before he realized the bottomless pit that was his blood lust made him less than that of a rabid animal. It wasn't exactly a learning option for humans and most living beings.

"Are you sure you're going to be fine moving around the city by yourself, Regis?" asked Geralt. "What about the other higher vampires not with Orianna? Wouldn't they attack you if they realized who you are?"

"Not to worry." Regis seemed glad for the change of topic, even if that topic was of him getting attacked by others of his race. "Most, if not all, of the higher vampires have taken leave of the city. While they do not approve of Orianna's blood drinking, they still recognize her as one not to be trifled with so easily. Her words of someone hunting her had no doubt caused them to take a temporary vacation in their own retreats abroad."

"Avoiding the crossfire, huh?"

Eskel looked amused at the thought.

"It's no easy task taking on two higher vampires," said Regis.

"Don't I know that." Geralt could still remember that fight their fight at Tesham Mutna. Even with a higher vampire on his own side, it was a very close fight against Detlaff. "I'm starting to think three witchers isn't going to be enough."

"Detlaff was unique, even amongst our own kind." Regis swirled his wine as he remembered his old friend that he had killed. "He was exceptionally powerful. I'm sure he could have taken two regular higher vampires on by himself. It was the reason many of our lesser kin answered his call. I doubt there are any with Orianna that could rival his strength."

"Good to know."

A few plates of food were dropped off by the barmaid at their table.

"Good news so far, but not much to go on," continued Geralt. "We still don't know where they are in the city. It doesn't help that its expanded so much. Not much news of strange goings aside from the usual paranoia from old wives and drunken men."

"Might be just a matter of time, though," said Eskel. "That witch hunter friend of yours was right about them going combing through the city. I've seen a lot of them walking around from place to place."

"Yes," nodded Regis. "Though, I'm glad to say that none of them appear to be carrying another bauble like the group before. These ones seem actually competent in their work. They even seemed downright pleasant when they were asking some of the townsfolk."

Due to the incident that had caused their expulsion in the city before, the witch hunter order were a lot more careful in selecting their own people that were allowed into the city. They wanted a positive image of their presence there, so they chose the more tolerant and patient of their ranks. Also, those with a bit more common sense and training.

"I guess Tamara has a lot more talent for leading than her father did," said Geralt. "Still, we might not have the time if Orianna is planning on making her escape from the city. She'd likely leave as soon as she's healed enough." He frowned as a thought came to him. "Regis, shouldn't higher vampires heal very quickly? Wouldn't she have completely healed already?"

Regis hummed. "…That's right. Most wounds tend to heal within a day. Even loss limbs aren't going to take more than several days at most if one were to focus on it."

"We know for sure she's been injured more than a week ago. How can we be sure she hasn't left the city yet? For all we know, she could have taken a ship and sailed up or down the Pontar already."

"Oh, she's here, I can assure you."

Geralt and Eskel both shared skepticism at Regis' confident answer.

"What makes you so sure?" asked Eskel.

"You might not have noticed it, but there are quite a bit more birds in Oxenfurt lately," pointed out Regis.

"Familiars…" mumbled Geralt. Though there are some mages that use them, higher vampires have great control over a number of them. They are used as for delivering messages or surveillance.

"Whilst I can hide myself from their sights, you two most likely have gotten their attention already."

"Great," grunted Eskel. "So they know we're coming for them? That's not good."

"At least that proves that she is still here."

Instead of being glad for that news, Geralt seemed bothered by it.

"Why?" he asked. "Why would she still be here if she knew she was being hunted? That doesn't make any sense. She should have left as soon as her wound healed. Unless…"

"She's still wounded," finished Regis, now seeming in deep thought. "That would explain why she's still here. She had said through her familiars that she'd been wounded, but I had not thought about it too deeply. It might not be something so easily healed."

"So we're not too late, but still unsure of how much time we have left," said Geralt.

"She'll likely try and speed up the process somehow," said Regis. "I'm sure she's already tried the normal methods, such as feeding to speed up the healing process. However, if that had worked, she'd have long left by now."

Regis was more than an expert in wounds, seeing as he had inflicted and received more than his fair share before, but also because he used to be the barber-surgeon of Dillingen. He had treated to the wounds of countless humans during his time there, in part of his self-atonement for the misspent days of his youth that had caused so much pain to others.

Eskel showed an uncommon smirk. "Must be quite a shock to her, taking on a mortal wound just like the rest of us."

Regis suddenly snapped his fingers and pointed at him. "That's absolutely right! A mortal wound! And what do the rest of you do when that happens?"

"Drink a swallow?"

Eskel's answer seemed to deflate Regis' excitement. While still considered human, witchers weren't exactly normal. They did, after all, battled all kinds of monsters in their trade.

"Find a doctor."

Fortunately, Geralt seemed to have more sense in such things.

"Correct."

So now they knew that Orianna might be seeking the aid of a doctor in the city. They understood her goal now, but are still unable to narrow down the search quite well enough. Oxenfurt was a large, bustling city of trade and academics. Doctors were plentiful here, with customers able and willing to pay their high prices to clear what ails them. It would take too much time to go over every single one.

However, it was also likely that not just any doctor would be able to help Orianna. If the doctor they chose couldn't heal her, he'd likely be killed. And a missing doctor would be bound to attract the attention of people, more so than that of the poor folk. They'll need to pick one of the best whilst hiding their presence from those that pursue them.

"I know where she is," said Geralt as the answer dawned on him.

* * *

"Heard about the reception at headquarters?"

A witch hunter elbowed his comrade as they idled near a food stall by the corner of the street.

"What of it?" said the other after finishing off the last of his skewers. "Some big noble or something arrived, right? Not like we were invited. Most of us were here trying to find a bloody vampire. Are they even sure it's here?"

"Watch it!" The witch hunter glared briefly at the man that bumped into him trying to get to the food stall before continuing. "Anyways, the reception was for the lady who'd fought the vampire. She's said to have singlehandedly killed one and wounded the one we're looking for now."

"A woman?" said his comrade, shaking his head in disbelief. "A sorceress, then?"

"Who knows?" shrugged the witch hunter. "The men who came from the reception told that it was a foreign beauty, a lady dressed not like any sorceress they've ever seen. Her face, they said, was as if a perfect sculpture had been brought to life."

"Really now?" A lecherous grin appeared on the other man's face. "I'd like to judge that for myself."

"They also said the captain had been glaring murder all night at any man that dared even think of acting out of line."

"They were probably just exaggerating about her looks," quickly said the witch hunter. "Foreign girls always look prettier to the local boys. Those lads should really get a better grip of themselves."

His comrade rolled his eyes. "Uh-huh. Well, we might see her ourselves anyway. The captain should be coming here with her to help locate this blood-sucking leech. We should probably get a move on and gather with the rest of the men. We'll no doubt get more than an earful if the captain hear we were eating on the job again."

As the two witch hunters left to get back on the busy streets, the man who'd bumped into them earlier turned around as he was chewing on a skewer.

"A foreigner, huh?"

After finishing the remaining meat on his skewer, Lambert followed the witch hunters.

He didn't think he would get a lead thanks to his hungry stomach.

Lambert pulled his hood over. "Let's see just what this lady looks like."


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I own neither Bloodborne or The Witcher. This work is merely fanfiction, and as such, earns me no income whatsoever. Please don't sue me. I'm really poor.**

* * *

"I must say, the academy seems to be doing well for itself."

Geralt pried his eyes away from the strange jar he'd been staring at. Regis stood by the cluttered office's window, staring at the faculty and students spread all over the grounds of Oxenfurt Academy. Outside, many were pouring over books, enthusiastically engaging in discussions, or moving to other parts of the academy.

"Yeah," Geralt agreed. "They seemed to have bounced right back along the city after the war. I heard rumors that they'd received a generous amount of donation to help with the restoration."

"Doesn't seem like a rumor to me." Eskel raised an eyebrow after weighing a gold statue of a strange animal from the Chancellor's table in his hand. "This thing is solid gold. Must cost a good amount of coin. Does this even do anything?"

"That was a gift given to me by a merchant from Ofier." An old man with short grey beard came into the room. For a scholar, he looked very tidy. Unlike his office. "I'd appreciate if you didn't handle it so roughly. The merchant said it was blessed to give good luck. Also, just to be clear, embezzlement of funds for personal benefit or reasons are strictly monitored by the academy. I can ill afford to have such a luxurious item on my salary."

The old man sat at the desk at his desk situated at the back of the room. He grumbled as he shoved piles of paper and books from the top of his desk before sitting back and holding his hands together to stare at the guests in front of him. This man was Mylar Dupont. The new chancellor of Oxenfurt Academy.

"So sorry to keep you gentlemen waiting," he said with a tired smile. "It's been rather busy as of late, what with the new semester and all. I've had to deal with a lot more problems than the usual. Have a seat."

Geralt and Regis did so while Eskel had preferred to stand just behind them instead.

"Now, how may I be of service?" asked the chancellor.

"We'd like to ask you some questions," said Geralt.

"But of course," nodded the chancellor. "I suppose it's related to that vampire those brigands have been trying to find. To think, that woman was a vampire! No one could have expected this."

"You know her?"

"Know her?" The old man chuckled, causing his bushy beard to tremble. "She was our wealthiest benefactor. If not for the money she'd donated to our academy, we would still be recovering from the damage the war had done to us. Her connections and charisma had been quite the boon to the current prosperity of the entire city. Although, now that I think about it, that was probably the reason why an outsider such as herself had been able to easily insert herself here."

"The gold was blinding, but then so was her smile."

"Indeed," nodded the chancellor. "You really can't judge based on appearances. I really should invest in ways on how to detect problems like her in the future. I dare say many would find it useful to know when a monster is in their midst."

"I heard some merchant was selling a bauble like that here." A very small smile appeared on Eskel's face. "Could ask him for some?"

Regis coughed lightly. "She wouldn't happen to have a place in the academy for her to stay on her visits here? Or even a room she'd stay in."

The old man shook his head. "The Witch Hunters had asked the same thing. She had visited us on occasion, but did not stay for long. Though the academy does have better board than most other places of education, our rooms are rather… comfy at best. Certainly not the kind of room a noblewoman would choose to stay in. Especially since her own home is just outside the academy gates."

"Doubtful she'd return there," said Regis.

"Yes," agreed the chancellor. He frowned. "Those buffoons from earlier had already tossed the place over from top to bottom, so I doubt there is anything more you could learn from there. There was not a single stone left unturned or intact. Honestly, if the city guards weren't there, they might've lit the place on fire."

"Can't say I'm too fond of them either," said Geralt. "Something happened with them?"

"Let's just say their zeal and stupidity came into light a few years ago," answered the chancellor. "Still, they are hunting a vampire. So, though reluctantly, the academy has been fully cooperating with their efforts."

"How about missing staff or faculty?"

"Notably someone with a talent for medicine," added Regis.

Chancellor Mylar rubbed his beard in thought. "One of our professors was thought to be missing a few days back, but he was found shortly later to have just accidentally locked himself in his own cellar. Aside from that, all of our people are here and accounted for."

Geralt thought for sure that they were right. However, from what they've been told, Orianna didn't have any place in the academy. Space was also very limited here, so it was doubtful that she and a nest of higher vampires would go unnoticed for long. There was also the fact that no one was missing.

"Maybe she took someone else from outside the academy?" Geralt heard Regis mumble to himself.

If she wasn't here, then they were back to square one. They'd have to search other possible locations, and that would take more time.

"Oh!" suddenly said the chancellor, quickly taking back his guest's attention. "I am not quite sure if she's missing or not, but our new Dean was supposed to arrive several days ago. She was travelling from Kaedwen, so she might be just late. It's not unreasonable to expect delays when travelling outside the cities in these times."

Though the war has been over, the roads and countryside are plagued by monsters. It has made travel and trade that much worse, so people usually didn't pay attention so much when their goods and packages are a few days late. It was hard to estimate just how long travel would take even through a straight road from one town to another.

"It's one of the reasons why I am so troubled right now," sighed the chancellor. "The former Dean had already retired, so someone needs to handle the faculty until the new Dean arrives. I've been filling in for her, but it has been rather hard for me. While my knowledge is vast, I cannot compare to ones who have specialized."

"What faculty is it?" asked Regis.

"It's the Faculty of Medicine and Herbology."

Geralt shared a look with his companions and nodded. "Looks like we've got our missing doctor."

"You think she's been taken by the vampire?" asked the chancellor in confusion. "But what would a vampire need a doctor for? Though I am no means an expert, even I know that they heal faster than normal humans."

"This is a special case," said Regis. Though he hid it well, Geralt and Eskel knew the vampire was eager to begin searching the academy now that they were close. "You said Orianna didn't have a place to stay here, but that doesn't mean there no places here for her to hide." He leveled his gaze on the chancellor, insisting. "Somewhere out of the way or abandoned that no one goes to. A secret dungeon or some such. Even a big enough cellar would do."

"As I said, there is very little room here," said the chancellor. "Whatever space available we have is utilized to the utmost. It's one of the reasons why we've been—"

The chancellor paused mid-speech.

"Oh…" he murmured weakly. "Oh dear."

"So there is one?" Regis seemed just about to jump for joy. "An old and forgotten part of the academy?"

"Not exactly…"

As the chancellor reiterated, expansion of the academy was difficult since it was located on a separate island from the city. There just wasn't enough space to build new facilities on its surface. That was the reason why they had decided to expand downward. Excavation was costly, but they had enough funds to continue with it. Unfortunately, most of those funds came from their now hunted benefactor, so work had been postponed until their accountants could settle on a new budget that didn't involve asking for a wealthy patron because they underestimated the costs.

"Deep, dark, and out of the way," said Geralt as he examined the blueprints of the excavation site. The excavation point lied somewhere to the far off corner of the academy where it would least affect the students and faculty. "It's not even halfway done, but it's already that big of a space. A perfect place for monsters to hide in."

"Are any of the facilities here completed?" Regis pointed to the rooms on the blueprint.

"Most of them are still under construction, but a few of them have been furnished, yes." The chancellor seemed quite worried to know that his academy had been infested by vampires. "Goodness. I should have known. She was the one who paid for the expansion in the first place."

"What's this one?" Geralt tapped the knuckle of his finger on the blueprint of a strange room with what looked to be a furnace, rising seats like of a colosseum, and a single table in the center.

"Ah, that. It's a room requested by the missing Dean. She was quite insistent on it. It's supposed to be a place where she could work on a body while allowing observers a good view of it. The idea is macabre but interesting nonetheless. She's quite ingenious."

"We will try and rescue her," said Regis. "They have no reason to kill her so long as they have use of her."

What he didn't say was that her use would quickly come to an end as soon as the vampires knew they had been discovered. It would be a hard fight just by themselves. Having to rescue someone else on top of that would make things worse.

"Oh, thank goodness," the chancellor wiped the sweat off his brow. "I wouldn't know what to do if she were gone. Replacing a talent like hers would be difficult."

Not to mention he'd have to deal with the paperwork of her faculty until he could find a replacement.

"So what's her name?" asked Geralt as he and the others rose to depart. The sooner they start, the better her chances were of staying alive.

"Her last name is quite difficult, so I always forget the entire thing." The chancellor seemed quite embarrassed at his weak memory. "She's a proud graduate of our academy, you know? Served in the war healing the wounded as well."

"Uh-huh." Geralt rolled his eyes.

As the chancellor accompanied them out, he snapped his fingers. "That's right! Sweet like honey!"

The outburst was surprising enough to halt everyone in their tracks.

"I beg your pardon?" said Geralt.

"Her name!" proudly said the chancellor. "I thought that to myself when I first met her. A wonderful woman with a sweet name like honey. Her name is Shani."

* * *

"How much longer?"

Shani paused, her surgical tools hanging just above the stomach of her patient. Orianna looked up at her tentatively, trying to hold back the pain showing up on her face.

"We have to be careful taking out every piece of whatever lodged itself into you," she said. "Otherwise I'm afraid the wound wouldn't heal at all. I'm not even sure what it is I'm looking for and It's hard to see without a lot of light here. I can't see in the dark like you guys can."

"Or maybe you just need more encouragement?" A sharp-dressed man with a crooked nose extended his hand, slowly turning into elongated claws that he held in perfect view of Shani. "I should just gut you here for—"

"Enough," said Orianna. "Get her some more lights here, Renthal."

"But she—!"

"I said enough!" Orianna's beautiful face momentarily shifted into a hideous visage. Renthal was quick to take a step back from her. "The sooner she takes this thing out of me, the faster I can heal! I will not live with this pain for the rest of my life!"

Renthal left the room with a snarl alongside several others, leaving only Orianna on the surgical table with Shani leaning over her. They didn't need to worry about Shani trying to escape or killing their wounded comrade. Orianna was still a higher vampire, wounded as she was.

Shani began working on Orianna's wound again.

"Well that was certainly discouraging," she said as she worked. "I'm kind of doubtful you'll be keeping your promise to let me go unharmed now once I'm finished here."

"So long as—gah!" Orianna sucked in deep as Shani pushed a pair of sharp tweezers deep into her wound. It took a few moments before it came out, pulling a piece of blood-covered shrapnel out. "…So long as you do your part, I will keep my word. Though I may be vampire, I am one not without class."

"Aren't you in this mess because you were drinking the blood of orphans?"

Orianna couldn't help but smile weakly at that. "We all have our faults. Even the best of people keep a few hidden pleasures to themselves. Some people like to drink fine wine. You could say the same thing about me, really. It's just that I prefer the blood of innocents rather than fermented grapes."

"If my life wasn't on the line here, I'd argue with less than polite words."

Shani examined the shrapnel with curious eyes before putting it aside in a small tin set next to the table.

"Oh, I don't think I would mind," said Orianna. Her breath seemed to relax much better than before now that another piece of it was taken out. "You're a surprising honest sort, aren't you? I can't help but appreciate how well your taking having been kidnapped and surrounded by vampires. Most doctors I'd known would be shaking like a leaf in a winter storm right now. Aren't you a bit too calm for someone in a situation such as yours?"

"It's times like these that I'll always need a steady hand. You'd be surprised how often I've done this kind of thing before." Shani carefully made her way deep into her patient's wound again, causing Orianna to purse her lips for a moment. "People always need doctors and healers… Even monsters. You wouldn't be the first one I've operated on."

"Interesting life you must lead. I'm glad to know my doctor is someone as experienced and knowledgeable as you."

"Why thank you." Shani's sarcasm was fairly evident. "This might hurt a little."

Orianna scrunched her eyes in pain, her hands gripping the sides of the metal table, audibly denting it from her inhuman grip.

"Got it."

Another piece of shrapnel clinked into the tin.

"That is… much better," sighed Orianna.

"There's only a few pieces left, I think? I can't do much more without more light since they're in pretty deep."

Shani examined the wound. She was amazed that the flesh surrounding it began to visibly heal, only leaving a small part of it open.

"Well, that's interesting." She was reminded that her patient really was not human. "It's good that it looks like you're getting better already, but we're going to have to reopen it again later once I have more light. I'll need to recoat my tools with St. Gregory's Oil again if I want them to get through."

At the start, it took a bit of time to prepare the oil since the ingredients weren't exactly on hand at the time. The vampires were dubious of her need of it, until she demonstrated how some of her earlier tools broke and dulled trying to get through Orianna's flesh.

"To even know how to make vampire oil… You really are just full of surprises," said Orianna as she sat herself upright on the table. "I wouldn't think there was many situations a healer would be in need of one."

"Some soldiers like to keep a bottle or two in case they ever need it," Shani said as she began to clean her tools with a cloth. "Some alchemists and mages brew it for a price, but the one I make is a bit more potent than theirs. A recipe I picked up from an old friend of mine."

"I might've preferred theirs," smiled Orianna, tenderly touching her wound. She'd rather not go through it again at all.

"It will make the cuts faster and cleaner instead of me steadily hacking away at it."

Orianna shuddered at the thought. She'd rather keep her pain to a minimum if at all possible. This was the first time in her existence that she'd felt pain so horrible before, and she'd felt what it was like to be on the receiving end of weapons and magic before. From the smallest blade to the conjured flames of mages. Those could not compare to her wound right now.

"Who did this to you, anyway?" asked Shani, picking up one of the shrapnel. "It looks like… silver?"

"That is _not_ silver." Orianna looked disgusted at the sight of it. "I've been wounded by a silver sword before, and I can assure you that that thing is not made of it."

"A… witcher?" Shani stopped from cleaning her tools.

"Yes," said Orianna. "Must have been some hundred or so years ago. Back when there was still a lot of them."

"Oh." Shani returned to preparing her tools. "I always thought witchers and mages were the only ones capable of handling strong vampires. I'd never heard of anything else that could take them on," she said, tossing the shrapnel into the tin again.

"That has never been true," said Orianna. Her eyes wandered to the ceiling. "Valiant heroes from common men to powerful mages, those stories always like to make it seem like people of the kind are the only ones capable of killing monsters. Storytellers just ignore the other fact."

"What other fact?" Shani asked curiously.

Orianna remembered that time at the orphanage.

"…That monsters can kill other monsters."


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I own neither Bloodborne or The Witcher. This work is merely fanfiction, and as such, earns me no income whatsoever. Please don't sue me. I'm really poor.**

* * *

"You good?"

Eskel nodded at Geralt's question. They both grunted a little as the effects of their witcher brew travelled through their veins, strengthening them, enhancing their senses far beyond normal men. The effects would kill regular humans, but their mutated bodies could resist the toxicity. It didn't mean it didn't hurt, though. Downing those was always painful for any and all witchers.

"I never get tired of seeing those witcher potions at work." Regis watched in fascination as both witchers reeled and staggered to their feet. "Their effects on your body's metabolism—going so far as increasing your own regeneration—it boggles the mind how humans could be capable of such a thing. If all other men could do the same thing, well, I doubt you'd have as many monster contracts going around."

"Other men aren't like us, Regis," grunted Geralt, his eyes changing to a yellow cat's eye, adjusting to the darkness around them. They were just at the mouth of the entrance to the underground extension of the academy. Both witchers had taken time to prepare their drink their potions and meditate for what they deemed to be a rather steep talk. "They wouldn't know, and they wouldn't want to know."

"Mostly that it hurts like a bitch." Eskel cracked his neck as the potion's effect came into completion. "Most guys would fall over after a sip of this stuff."

He threw an empty bottle at the vampire, who caught it in his hand.

"This is…" Regis scrunched his nose after he had sniffed the contents.

"Black blood."

A witcher potion developed by witchers and mages to specifically deal with monsters that drink blood or eat flesh. One of the many potions in a witcher's arsenal against necrophages and the like. As it is named for, it literally changes the imbiber's blood black, which does more than make them a little more salty to monsters that tried to take a bite out of them.

"We've got actual poison flowing through our veins," said Geralt. "Not something most men would try. And yeah, it does hurt like a bitch. You get more than a little hangover with this stuff."

"You want to try a sip?" asked Eskel, giving Regis of what came close to be an actual grin he'd seen on him since they first met outside the city.

"I'll pass," snorted the vampire. "I'm on the wagon, as you human's would say. And I'd like to stay on it for good."

"Yeah? I can't believe I'm saying this but I hope most of your kind aren't the same. It'd be easier once they got a taste of our blood."

"The ones we're about to meet are far off the wagon as can be. They don't even drink for the satisfaction anymore most likely. Even those that of us that still feed on blood see no need to indulge in excess. I'd have no problems running them over with my wagon."

Regis took the lead, seeing as he would be better suited to finding any hidden vampires along their way. The path downwards took them no trouble. Once they reached the bottom, they saw through the dark that the expansion was still obviously unfinished, as scattered around the pathway were stacks of unused bricks, shovels, and other items and equipment used in construction. It was a rather large excavation, seeing as there was plenty of room just for the pathways itself to accommodate troops marching in a row of five.

They moved forward carefully, watching for any signs of an ambush. The witchers had their silver swords covered in vampire oil out, slowing their breaths with each step they took. They followed the way of what they remembered on the map the chancellor had provided them. It wasn't until they saw the flickering of a light ahead of them did they stop.

Regis held his hand up for them to stop. The vampire closed his eyes as he entered a state of concentration, trying to discover the presence of his brethren ahead. He knotted his brows, before giving a sigh that both witchers thought was a little too loud.

He looked at them and said, "It's alright. She knows we're here. There's no point in us hiding."

Geralt and Eskel nodded.

Together all three of them strode into the room. They entered to see a wide and dome-shaped interior that seemed fully lit with torches. Multiple rows of seats surrounded the room that descended and ended at an open space at the bottom. It was a little like a small coliseum. Instead of finding a den of bloodthirsty vampires, they saw only Orianna sitting on a stone table at the open area, Shani by her side.

"It appears I have visitors," smiled Orianna. "Would it be too much for me to think that you're all here to wish me well on my recovery?"

"Geralt?" Shani said, surprised to see the witcher after so long.

"You know him?" queried Orianna. "The vampire oil… ah, I see. So that's who you got the recipe from. I can see why it was so effective now." She tried to stand on her feet but almost fell. Shani helped her by giving her a bit of support on her shoulder.

"I just finished taking out the last bit of that metal out of you," Shani chided. "Vampiric regeneration or not, it'll take you more than just a minute to get your bearings straight. If a normal human were in the same predicament, it would at least a month to before you're fully heal. At your condition, you shouldn't even be out of bed for a few days. You're too weak. You need to rest."

"A fine doctor indeed. But as you can see, I do not have the luxury to lie down while I have guests waiting." Orianna straightened herself and took on a posture that showed her pride. "Go on then," she gestured to Shani. "I promised you your freedom, did I not? I need not tell you how reliable of a witcher Geralt is if you know him. He'll see you safely away from this place, of that I am sure."

Shani glanced between her and Geralt, worry etched on her face. There was a heavy tension permeating the room as both sides waited. Shani started walking towards the Geralt, stopping once to look back at Orianna, who simply gave her an encouraging smile before she continued on.

"Stand back, Shani." Geralt pulled her behind him. "We'll get you out of this once we're done here."

"How magnanimous of you to release her," Regis said as he moved closer to Orianna.

"My vices aside, you know I'm always true to my word. Though I must say, it is quite a surprise to see you again, Regis." Orianna seemed to glide as she approached him. "I was dismayed to learn what had happened between you and Detlaff. I know that it couldn't have been… easy. To do what you had to. It's good to see you at least. Though, I wish you came alone rather than with your friends."

"They were eager to meet you as well. Not surprising considering how popular you appear to be these days. We actually weren't sure we would be able to meet you in time."

"Really now?" sighed Orianna. She turned to Geralt, giving him a rather small smile. "I know we didn't part in the best of terms, however, I suppose you're finally here to make good on that promise of yours?"

"I haven't forgotten it if that's what you're asking," answered Geralt.

The witcher still remembered his time in Touissant. He'd helped her find and kill the garkain that had slaughtered the orphanage she had owned. It was only afterwards did he found out that she had kept said orphanage only as her own personal blood cellar. He wondered if he should've have taken care of her then. Seeing as she was here right now and on the run for doing the exact same thing as before, he didn't really have to wonder about it anymore.

He really should have killed her then.

"Very well." The smile was gone from Orianna's face.

She strode purposefully towards Geralt until they were only a few feet apart. Her appearance was a far cry from when they had first met. Right now, her dress was bloodied and torn and encrusted with dried mud and dirt. Her usual shining and well-kept hair was unkempt. Even though she stood with pride, it was obvious that she was weakened. It looked like she had just crept back up from her own grave.

"If I must die, I shall choose to do so standing on my own two feet," she said, not a single quiver in her voice.

Her eyes bored into the witcher's. As Geralt raised his silver sword up, her eyes shifted to it, watching as it was returned to its sheath. Her conviction to face her death was momentarily broken as confusion now spread across her face.

"Admirable," said Geralt, "But we didn't come here to kill you. At least, that wasn't the main objective. If you're not going to fight us, then that makes this a lot easier. That outcome might still be a possibility, depending on how this goes. Got a few questions for you that needs answering."

"Hmm…" Orianna was intrigued. "And if I were to cooperate? Shall I receive something in turn?"

"How about your life?" Eskel said with a scowl, his silver sword still out. He wasn't feeling as trusting as Geralt. He already made an exception for Regis. "If we're feeling generous."

Orianna smirked. She obviously sensed an opportunity to be had, now that she wasn't at the chopping block as she'd had thought.

"I could just decline that offer, you understand?" she said with mirth. "After all, as a higher vampire, true death eludes me unlike that of our lesser kin. It will take me some years to regenerate, but I will return. As Geralt surely remembers, only another higher vampire can permanently kill us, and I doubt you would convince Regis to do the deed." Her playful gaze turned to her old friend, causing the renegade vampire to shift his eyes away uneasily. "Though not always seen eye to eye with each other, we do share some history together. Even if he so happens to agree to it, he would find himself in an even more precarious situation with the rest of our kind. I doubt you'd want that."

"But that isn't true, now is it?" said Geralt, causing Orianna to stiffen. "Not anymore. Isn't that the reason why you're in hiding? You almost died. Permanently. Someone who had done the same thing to a friend of yours. Probably put the fear into you. Maybe even the first time you've felt it."

"You weren't exactly selective of your message," Regis answered.

Orianna stayed silent for a while before saying, "Then you know what it is I barter for."

"Your survival." Geralt crossed his arms. "You want safe passage out of the city."

Orianna nodded. "Your questions answered for that price. Whatever you want and more, so long as I leave this place with my life intact. The sooner the better."

"That desperate, huh?"

"You don't know what I saw!" she shouted, her outburst causing Eskel and Regis to ready themselves against her. "That woman is coming for me. Even now I can feel her getting closer and closer to me, cornering me—hunting me down. If I do not leave here soon…" After a moment, she regained her poise after exhaling. "So, are we in agreement?"

Geralt rubbed his chin as he thought carefully.

"Then I'll dictate the terms," he said. "In exchange for helping us on our work here, we'll guarantee you safe passage out of the city. You're on your own after that. You can go to Zerikania or even across the sea if you want."

"I can agree to that," said Orianna.

Geralt wasn't done though. "And you'll give us your word that you will never drink blood ever again. From children or adults, it doesn't matter. From this moment on, swear that you'll follow the same path as Regis."

Orianna appeared at a loss for words for once.

"That…! You can't be serious!" she protested.

"As much as I hate to say it, Geralt," said Eskel. "I agree with her. You can't expect someone like her to do that. She's not gonna stop. You really think she'll keep a promise like that? There's no guarantee she'll do it. I bet you she breaks it in less than a week after she's gone from this place."

"She won't." Geralt was stoic. "After all, she's the kind that won't back out of her word once given. Isn't that right?"

Orianna's face had showed more emotion in that single minute than she had ever shown in more than the recent century of her life. Her reluctance to quickly agree meant that Geralt's own words were not wrong. It wasn't as if the witcher was asking her to die. As a higher vampire, she didn't need to feed on blood to survive. It was simply just a recreational entertainment for them, really. As she had said before, it was akin to being an imbiber of fine wine. However, in her case, it was a bit more difficult than that. Hers would be more apt to compare to a user of fisstech, an addiction not so easily given up on a whim.

"That… I cannot agree to," she finally said. "Your questions I will answer. Wealth and power I can even promise you that, but to give up blood forever…?"

"Orianna," said Regis with a note of warning, "Surely you understand that this is your life at stake here. Your desire to survive must be stronger than this. You have no room to negotiate. You have no other options."

"Oh, but I do. I can still make my escape," Orianna insisted. "The others will soon return, and with their help I shall flee as far as my feet can take me, cross the sea if I must."

"The other vampires." Geralt cursed as he just remembered them.

"Yes. I sent them out on a trivial errand as my surgery was close to finished. They may not hold my word in higher esteem as I would when it came to sparing the good doctor, so we needed them gone for several hours. In a few minutes, they should be arriving soon with sacks of ingredients they think to be of medicinal use when in actuality it is more a recipe for a rather delectable tart."

"That doesn't sound good," mumbled Eskel.

"It's actually quite delicious," said Shani. "My grandmother's old recipe."

"Not the part I was worried about."

No wonder they hadn't encountered anyone else down there. But if the vampires were returning, then they didn't have much time. It's not like they could force Orianna to comply. She did not fear dying in their hands. That problem had to wait, though, as something reached their ears.

Even Shani, who was by far the most normal of the group, could hear that something was wrong. Echoes of shouting and metal clanging ran down the underground from the entranceway. There was a battle occurring aboveground. This was clear enough to everyone in the room.

"I thought you said we had a few minutes?" said Geralt.

"It appears they had finished their tasks sooner than I'd anticipated." Orianna wasn't as pleased to hear the arrival of her comrades as one would think. Her estimate of their return was somewhat off, being that the errand she had them on was more likely to keep them away for an hour or two more than what she had told Geralt. Not that she would admit to bluffing when her life had been on the table.

"Hmmm…" Eskel seemed to listen closely. "Swords, armor and shields… Care to guess who the vampires met at the entrance?"

"The Witch Hunters," answered Regis. "It appears they weren't as inept as we thought if they managed to track the vampires here. I'm rather impressed that they were only a step later than we were here."

"Damn," said Geralt. "Tamara. She must've had us tailed from the start. This'll make things complicated."

He turned to Orianna and was about to consider her demands when the vampiress suddenly said, "I accept!"

"…What?"

"Your conditions from earlier, I agree to them. Now, will you keep your word and guarantee my wellbeing?"

Geralt knotted his brow. Her quick change of mind made him suspicious. Though Orianna projected the look of absolute calm on the surface, he could tell that she was anything but. Before he could question her though, a rush of footsteps from where they came from took his attention.

"Orianna!" came a loud snarl. "The humans have found us!"

From the passageway came three humanoid batlike creatures, their claws elongated to the size of short swords in their hands. Blood dripped from their claws and mouth.

Once they had arrived in the room, they paused as they examined the occupants of the room. The one in the lead, and the largest of them, scrunched its ugly face in confusion at seeing them. That was until its eyes settled on Regis.

"Traitor!" it snarled as it bared its fangs. "You dare show yourself in front of us!"

"Choose now, Geralt!" Orianna said quickly.

"Dammit all!" Geralt unsheathed his silver sword. He really didn't have much choice now. If Orianna sided with the vampires, weakened as she was, it'd make things very difficult for them. It would also put Shani's life at risk. "I accept! Now stand back and take Shani with you while we deal with this."

"Orianna?" the leading vampire seemed unable to understand her words and actions, as she took Shani behind her and backing away from him and her kin to stand behind two witchers and a traitor. "What is the meaning of this?!"

"I thank you for your assistance, Dorel," said Orianna, "But it appears I will be escaping following a different path from here on out. I'll be sure to repay you and the others for all that you've done for me, so you may all leave without worry."

The higher vampire was very upset at this. He slammed his fist at the stone archway beside them, taking a good chunk of it off as he growled menacingly at them. "You think we'd just let you go?! To use us like pawns—I will have you buried for a thousand years for this!"

The vampires rushed at them. The fight between them would last for a few minutes, however, the battle aboveground was proving far more intense.

* * *

"For the Eternal Fire!"

Tamara beheaded the vampire that was feeding on one of her soldiers on the ground, its head sailing a few feet away as the woman gasped deeply after putting all her strength into the blade. She glanced up to see the sorry state of her troops was in. Having rushed to the academy as soon as she was informed of the witchers sniffing around the underground excavation, she realized that they found their quarry.

Unfortunate for her, though, that before they could enter the underground expansion, they were met by Orianna's group of sympathetic vampires.

She was more than prepared to face Orianna. Maybe even another vampire or two. However, she did not expect to meet a little more than a half-dozen of them, not including the three that had entered towards the underground. It didn't escape her notice that the vampires were a lot stronger than the usual fare that they battled. If their equipment had been lacking, they would have been wiped out already. Thanks to the their new leadership being far more open-minded than the previous ones, prayer was not the only arsenal available to witch hunters in their fight against all that hides in the dark.

"Archers ready!" commanded Tamara. From her pouch she took a round object, lit its fuse, and threw it at the center of the group of vampires tearing through her men. It exploded in a cloud of glittering smoke that enveloped the area, coating all in its range. "Loose!"

Her archers sent their arrows flying towards the creatures, most of them meeting their marks. The arrows caused the vampires to howl with pain, as each arrowhead was coated with vampire oil beforehand. The dimeritium powder in the bomb prevented the vampires from using their supernatural abilities to avoid the arrows. Although it didn't really affect the superior physical strength and abilities that the monsters had, at least they stayed visible. While the arrows were effective, it only served to enrage the vampires, causing them to rush towards her and the archers in wild abandon.

The vampires gave a loud and chilling shriek as they batted and swiped down any man in their path towards them.

"Steel yourselves!" Tamara said as she ordered her men to meet the charge. She was not confident of her chances of making it out alive. The men around her were already injured and shaking with fear. One of the vampires jumped high, and dove right at her, when suddenly a loud burst of air had suddenly blown it back.

A short stream of fire stopped the charging vampires. Tamara looked to see that Geralt and Eskel had managed to join the fray, as both of them danced through the screaming, flaming vampires to deliver blows from their silver swords.

"Take them down! Quickly!" Tamara was quick to rally her troops to take advantage of the opportunity the witchers had presented them.

With the witchers' help, they were able to kill all the remaining vampires on the school grounds. It came at a high cost, though, as only a quarter of her troops that came with her were left alive. Of those, a quarter still were grievously injured.

"Captain," saluted one of her sergeants. "Reinforcements have been called for to help with the wounded and clear the dead. They should arrive soon."

Tamara could only nod grimly. They lost far too many men.

Near a clearing to their right, Tamara could see the makeshift triage where the wounded were being treated. It was a blessing that a medic was already on the scene right after the battle. She could see the red-headed doctor moving quickly, tending to injuries and barking orders at the students and soldiers who were there to help.

"Did we at least manage to kill that woman?" she queried.

The sergeant shook his head. "We've confirmed that she is not among those slain here. The witchers had left towards the city saying they were in pursuit of her. Should we give chase? The reinforcements should be able to handle things here, Captain."

"No," said Tamara sourly. "Let the witchers take care of her. Even if we did catch up with her, we're not in any condition to fight her. If she's the same as these others, we'll likely just get in the way. For now, I want all able-bodied men to form a perimeter over the area," she said. "This area is to be secured. After that, send a messenger to our headquarters. I want to deliver an urgent message."

Tamara was frustrated at what had happened, but she was still adamant about hunting down the vampire that had been the cause of her problems right now. If she had to request the help of another, then she would do so. She'd already had the witchers on her trail, but at least having another wouldn't really hurt to make sure.

"I hope she's as good as the rumors say she is."

* * *

"So what's the plan here, Geralt?"

Eskel seemed unamused. Well, more unamused than usual as they escorted Orianna, hiding her face with a cloak, to the slums on the south side of the city. As Geralt and Eskel helped the witch hunters deal with the bloodthirsty vampires, Regis had helped Orianna sneak away from the academy. With the pretense of tracking her down, Geralt and Eskel left behind Tamara and her troops, leaving Shani to help deal with the wounded.

"We can't just walk out of here," continued Eskel. "All of the city gates have witch hunters watching them, alongside the regular city guards that they must have doubled by now."

If Orianna was at least strong enough, it was possible that they could have found somewhere along the city wall that they could go over. Considering that the vampire had to lean on Regis for support with even just walking, that plan wouldn't be possible. Forcing their way through would no doubt cast their already tenuous reputation with the witch hunters into the fire pit, not to mention their jobs as monster hunters would be more difficult. People needed monsters killed, not saved.

"We need to find someplace to hide out for now," said Geralt, nursing a small gash on his neck where one of the vampires from earlier had managed to nick him. "We can wait for nighttime and sneak our way out one of the lesser guarded gates after. Sneaking out right now in broad daylight is just asking for trouble."

On the edge of the slum area, a simple exchange of coin and a bottle of one of Regis' brewed wine, a rather shabby storehouse was procured. It was smelly, dirty and grimy, with at least half the place being occupied by numerous junks of various kinds, but at least they had a place to stay. Not the worse of places the witchers had stayed in, but probably be a first in a long time for Orianna who had long lived the life of a wealthy noble.

"I'd thought taking a witcher's service would be more accommodating than this." Orianna looked at the sole, poor excuse of a bed that lay on the corner. Even bed bugs would shirk at the sight of it.

"Would you have preferred staying on that table at the academy?" Geralt and the others were moving some of the piles to make a little bit more room for themselves in the dilapidated building. "I'm a monster hunter, not a butler. My skills don't involve finding a posh room for you to settle in nicely. And I doubt any of the better places we could have stayed in would have allowed us to stay unnoticed from Tamara and her men."

Orianna sighed. "I suppose it shall suffice. Though, even a coffin would be more comfortable than that heap."

"I can put you in one after all this if you like?"

Orianna snorted at Eskel's remark. "I shall pass on that, thank you."

"Stay here for now," said Geralt. "I'll be back later."

"Where are you going?"

"Going to make sure to lead the witch hunters in the wrong direction. Should make it easier on us when we move, and hopefully make security at the gates on this side a little easier. In the meantime, Eskel will start questioning you about your part of the bargain."

"What?" It was funny to see how both Orianna and Eskel were both surprised at that.

"You can't be serious, Geralt." Eskel did not one bit look amused. "You know I'm not the most… articulate witcher around, or the friendliest. Getting cozy with monsters is more your area. I just kill them or leave them alone if they're not completely hostile. I ain't about to sit down and start chatting with a bloodsucking fiend." He gave Regis a minor glance and added, "No offense, Regis."

"None taken," said the vampire. "I've stopped drinking for a good long time to have that label be moot in point."

"And Orianna is going to do the same," said Geralt. "Someone has to convince the witch hunters that she's not anywhere near here, and out of the two of us, who do you think is going to be more convincing of that?"

Eskel's frown deepened. The witcher was not very good at expressing himself. He was a very conservative witcher, even amongst all other witchers. He was straightforward in most of his dealings and disliked having to go around things. He also didn't like witch hunters all that much better than monsters either. Truth be told, outside of a few, he didn't really like many people at all.

"Fine," he agreed grudgingly, planting his butt on a stool he'd found.

The witcher on his rickety stool and the vampire on the decrepit bed both shared their mutual displeasure at the circumstances on their faces as they glared at each other in silence. Meanwhile Regis busied himself with the contents of his satchel, no doubt trying to avoid the rather tense atmosphere between the two.

Before Geralt left through the door, he added, "Try not to kill each other while I'm gone."

He sighed as he closed the door behind him, receiving no inclination that they heard him. Or if they did, they chose not to answer it.

"It's going to be a long day."

* * *

Lady Maria sat with her back straight on her chair. She gazed silently at the sky outside through the window next to her. Dusk was approaching soon as the light of day slowly began to ebb.

"Will I ever see the same moon again, I wonder?" she said as her fingers traced the still blue sky through the dirtied glass.

After tracking down the whereabouts of the one that escaped her to the city, Byron's compatriots were more than accommodating to her after they'd been told of her accomplishments. It was unfortunate that he wasn't able to accompany her since he still had to make sure the children in the orphanage were taken care of. The appearance of the Baron's and Lady Anna's daughter had been pleasant though. She was kind like her mother but took charge in the way like her father did.

A rasping at the door to her room came. She gave her acknowledgement that whoever it was may enter.

"I beg your pardon, milady." One of the witch hunters came in with a parcel in his hand. "I've received a message from our captain that asks a request of you."

It didn't take Maria long before she'd strapped on her cloak, hat, and weapons. A Hunter was always prepared to go on a hunt at any moment. After all, the beasts will not wait for them.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I own neither Bloodborne or The Witcher. This work is merely fanfiction, and as such, earns me no income whatsoever. Please don't sue me. I'm really poor.**

* * *

"You want us to secure the west side?"

Geralt nodded seriously to the inquiry of the witch hunter sergeant, arms crossed and straight faced. The sergeant's was as stern as a stone gargoyle's, and turned uglier when he scrunched his face in thought of what Geralt had asked of him.

"But we already have men there guarding the area," argued the sergeant. "If we go there, this side'll be undermanned. The vampire could break through here easily. I've heard what they did to the captain and our men at the academy. Blessed we may be by the Eternal Fire, I doubt it will be enough if it were to come through here. Even if that vampire was injured badly as they say, I'm not sure the boys here could take her down by themselves."

The witcher was a little surprised that the man was more sensible than the other witch hunters he had met with before. It was not uncommon for men with a bit of training and a little experience to overestimate themselves when it comes to fighting monsters. That is until they actually meet one face to face.

"Look," Geralt pointed to the east horizon, "The sun rises from the east, right?"

"…Aye?" nodded the sergeant.

"You've heard that vampires don't like the sun? Well, if a vampire was trying to escape, it would choose the direction away from where the sun comes from. So, the vampire is probably going to escape from the west gate. Given that knowledge, it would be better to secure that side of the city."

"Hmm… I suppose?" the sergeant scratched his head in thought. It sounded logical, but the witcher knew it was all horseshit. "I still think we should keep a few more men here, just to be sure. You won't have to worry, though. I'll have a messenger send for more reinforcements from the garrison. That should help fortify both sides without compromising security."

Geralt would've been impressed with the sergeant's capacity for thinking ahead, if only their plan to escape hadn't been riding on it. Thanks to that, trying to escape from the east gate still remained an arduous task.

"If that's all, witcher, you may leave. I know you're busy trying to track down that blood-sucking monster. Rest assured we'll have things locked up nice and tight around here. She won't be going anywhere." The sergeant called for a messenger, no doubt to deliver his request for backup.

Geralt left without any further conversation. He'd only arise more suspicion if he'd argue to weaken the security again somehow. It looked like escaping with an injured vampire out of the city wasn't going to be any easier than killing one.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't my second favorite witcher?"

Geralt looked up from his muddling thoughts to see a cloaked figure in front of him. Though her face was kept hidden by her cloak, that voice and the smile that came from it was recognizable to him, as well as the scent of herbal mint.

"Keira." His lips curled to a smile. "Didn't think I'd see you here. Weren't you busy handling Lodge business? Thought it was important? Let me guess. You couldn't leave Lambert alone, could you?"

The sorceress removed her hood, shaking her shoulder-length golden hair loose. "To be fair, your current job is also in the interest of the Lodge. Having to check up on you boys just happened to be part of it. And good thing I did, otherwise my poor Lambert would have taken longer to get here."

"Lambert's here?" said Geralt surprised. "Why hasn't he contacted us?"

"He hasn't?" Keira's brow furrowed. "I thought for sure he went out earlier to meet up with you as soon as we arrived here."

"No, he didn't. If he had, we could have really used his help earlier." Geralt wondered where their fellow Witcher ran off to. He hoped he wasn't getting them more trouble. They already had their hands full right now. "How did you guys get here so quickly? Did you set up a long-range portal somewhere?"

"A little secret of mine carefully hidden inside one of my properties here," nodded Keira.

"Great," said Geralt. "How far is it from here?"

"I thought you weren't keen on portals?" curiously asked Keira. "Are you planning to leave so soon? I was hoping to spend a few days shopping here to get some materials."

"I'll tell you all about it on the way to the slums."

Keira sighed. "Honestly, Geralt, do you take all the sorceresses you meet to such charming places? I begin to wonder if Triss may have been the lucky one instead of Yennefer."

* * *

"This place is?" Lady Maria inquired of one of the two witch hunter escorts with her.

"The slums, my lady. It is not a place the city is proud to have, but it exists nonetheless. We should avoid this place. The… uh, people here are not generally used to seeing nobility."

"I see…"

Lady Maria observed the decrepit, poorly made buildings that lined the jumbled pathways and hole-ridden roads. The people here looked at them with fear and suspicion, their haggard and malnourished appearance was obvious underneath the tattered clothes they wore. Still, at least the eyes of the people here were not listless. They clung to life even at the poor state they were in.

"My lady, I'm afraid you have the wrong place," said the witch hunter. "The witcher had already said that the vampire took to the west of the city. This place is on the opposite end of it. Perhaps we should meet up with the captain and start from there?"

"No." Maria shook her head. "She is here. I can feel her… presence."

The two witch hunters looked troubled but nodded their acknowledgement. They had only been ordered to escort the noblewoman, so they saw no problems in following. Though both of them did wish that she had chosen someplace a little more safer, since the slums was not a place for a lady, especially a guest of their captain that they were specifically ordered to keep safe from harm.

As they made their way through the confusing and uneven path of the slums, few folk bothered to get in their way. Many simply chose to vacate their path and take refuge to the sides, away from view as they watched the out of place group pass by. Although there were still those that did not shrink from their presence. One such had brazenly tried to squeeze between Maria and the witch hunters.

"Where do you think you're going?!"

One of the witch hunters grabbed the boy before he could run, holding tightly onto his skinny arm. The boy tried to scramble away in fear, but he couldn't shake off the strong grip of the witch hunter.

"You think we don't know any better?!" shouted the witch hunter. He vigorously shook the boy with his hand and heard the small rattle of coins. "I grew up in the slums, boy. I know the tricks here."

The witch hunter reached under the boy's clothing, producing a small pouch. It was Maria's coin purse that she'd been carrying on her belt. He threw the boy to the ground.

The boy backed away in fear.

"P-Please, sir! Mercy!" he said. "I-I was just so hungry!"

"You know the penalty for stealing from a noble?" The witch hunter asked, his face in a frown. He unsheathed his sword and walked over to the boy. "It's better that I deal with you now and save the guards the trouble. It's easier this way for you as well, so keep still. I'll make this quick."

The boy looked to the other people of the slums, but they turned their gazes away from him. It was understood that life in the slums was hard. Everyone there knew this. The boy knew this. He didn't want to die, but so did the others of the slum. So there would be no one he knew that would save him.

"Stop."

A single word resounded in no great volume, yet it's command was absolute. Everyone heard it and the world followed. Lady Maria approached the boy on the ground and the Witch Hunter stepped aside.

"Are you alright?" she asked the frightened child in a gentle tone as she knelt in front of him.

"Please… don't hurt me," he begged. "I… I won't do it again."

"My lady, he is a thief—a criminal," said the witch hunter. "Justice must be brought upon him for what he had done. There is no need to concern yourself with him."

Lady Maria glanced back at him. "There is no justice in killing a hungry child. If you yourself came from such a place as this, then you know this to be true."

"That is…" The witch hunter didn't know how to answer. Once he had left the slums, he had to understand how the wider world worked. Rules and laws that needed to be followed. Both written and unwritten ones.

"Here." Lady Maria held out her hand to the boy. "Give me your hand."

The child, seeing Maria's calm and pale flawless face, hesitantly reached out to her. From her cloak, Maria gave him a piece of bread and pouch full of sweet cherries that had been provisioned for her. The plain bread was none too soft, but the Witch Hunter order had better stock of food than most anyone in the slums could afford, so it was a lot more appetizing than any bread the boy had ever eaten.

"You said you were hungry," smiled Maria. "Eat. I'm afraid this is all that I have for now."

"But…" The boy gulped at the sight of food. He, however, broke his hungry gaze to stare at Maria. "Miss—Lady, I… Is it really alright for me to have this?"

Maria nodded to him. "There's no need to hesitate. Eat to your heart's desire. You will not be punished for doing so."

The boy hesitated for a moment, glancing at the witch hunter behind Maria. He looked rather gruff but sheathed his sword nonetheless and gestured with his head for him to go on and be quick about it. It didn't take the boy even a two minutes before there was nothing left of the food given to him.

"My lady, now that the boy has eaten, we should probably be on our way."

Maria nodded. As much as it pained her to leave the child in such a poor state, they needed to catch the beast that she had allowed to escape.

"Please wait!"

"What is it now, boy?" asked the witch hunter in irritation. "Don't even think of even abusing her lady's kindness. You've already been given your life and a small meal to go with it. Go on and bugger off already."

"I-Is there a reason her ladyship is here?"

Maria gestured the witch hunter to be silent.

"We seek someone that should not be here," she said softly to the boy. "A beast that hides its true face in the guise of a woman. Might perchance you've seen someone as such?"

As it just so happens, the child did knew of someone like that. Whilst the number of people that goes to the slums is not a small number, people who stand out are remembered well by its residents. This pertains to either avoiding said people or targeting them. Whatever the case, the residents of the slums make it a point to remember those that stand out.

"She was with a man," said the boy. "She was hurt, I think? Kept having to lean on him, she did. They're staying at old man Yolden's crappy junkhouse. Heard he got paid a lot for it. Also got paid with a bottle of fancy wine or some such. But I also heard his wife nearly smashed it over his head when she found out. She didn't like him turning down more coin for his drink."

"Where?" asked Maria.

"I can show you, if you'd like?" smiled the boy happily. "It's a bit hard to get there if you don't know the way around."

The boy guided them through the slums, walking deeper through its muddied and cluttered roads, all the while being given a wide berth by the people. The Witch Hunters held a hand tightly on their blades and kept glaring at anyone that dared approach them. They weren't keen on having anyone else get close to Lady Maria.

"That's it!" pointed the boy. "Over there!"

At the far end of the district, they saw a collection of large shacks rather than warehouses that composed of a large section of the slums. Whatever items stored there, they could be sure it wasn't much of anything of value. In truth, most of the items stored there were just junk that had been forgotten. It was also the reason why no one really bothered in stealing anything from there.

"Are you sure?" said the witch hunter guard dubiously. "I know that dark creatures and the like live in ghastly places, but I think even they have standards."

"Sure as can be," said the boy.

The witch hunters didn't seem convinced.

"She is there."

Lady Maria knew it. She could feel the presence of her prey lying somewhere within one of those dilapidated shacks. The scent of her blood lingered even through the putrid smell that seemed to rise from the very grounds of the slums. Maria's own blood literally pulsed in excitement through her veins.

Putting her hand on the boy's shoulder, she said, "Thank you for bringing us here. Now, I want you to go with these men, who will give you a proper meal as a show of our gratitude. I will handle things from here."

"But my lady—!"

"There is no need for your concern," said Maria to the witch hunters. "Know that I cannot fight at my fullest whilst ensuring the child and your safety. Keep him somewhere safe and warm. It is best if you keep others from approaching as well. This is my prey… and I will hunt it alone."

Her voice was soft but firm in its resolve, leaving her witch hunter escorts troubled but ultimately nodding reluctantly to her demand. They left her, going back the way they came. Lady Maria stood all alone in silence. This part of the slums did not seem to have many people. And the few that had been there seemed to have cleared off once she and the Witch Hunters had appeared, leaving no one else but her.

Her and one other person.

"Will you show yourself now?"

For a moment there was nothing, but the sound of shuffled footsteps and a sigh appeared behind Lady Maria. Turning around she saw the man giving her a defeated smile.

"And here I thought I was being careful," he shrugged unabashedly. "Have to give you points for that. Still a long way to go to color me impressed, though."

"And you are?" asked Maria without expression.

The man made a small, exaggerated bow that appeared more mocking than a show of respect.

"Lambert's the name. Professional monster hunter. Though current work seems to have little do with that." He raised his head. "Not really my kind of job, but what can I say? Can't really turn down a friend asking for help. So with that said, I was told to 'negotiate' with you."

* * *

"I thought you said you would answer our questions once we agreed to help you?"

"I said I would willingly cooperate provided I receive safe passage out of the city. Am I outside the city walls? No. I am lying in a poor excuse of a bed that's most likely made from a wheat sack and being annoyed to the point of preferring death by an inarticulate Witcher with the manners of a swine."

Regis sighed deeply as he took another sip from his wine cask. The tired vampire couldn't help but shake his head at the arguing witcher and vampire at the corner. It had been an awkward silence at the start—more like the calm before a storm—but once Eskel finally tried to question Orianna, the two had been in a perpetual argument ever since.

Eskel was blunt and not at all happy about talking with a bloodsucking vampire, with the exception of Regis, and Orianna was irritable due to the lingering pain of her recovering wound. This did not make for a pleasant atmosphere. It was already bad enough that they had to stay at the dump where they were in. There were broken pieces of glass, rotting wooden boxes, torn cloths, and moldy slabs of bricks all over the floor. The little room they had managed to make wasn't all that clean either. Dust just covered every inch of the place.

Regis could only hope that Geralt would arrive soon. If not with good news, at least his presence would alleviate the building tension in the room.

"Look, I'm not asking for much. Just tell us what you know of the woman that almost killed you," said Eskel before mumbling quietly to himself, "Who really should have made sure to finish the job."

"And there we go," said Orianna pointedly. "You expect me to help you with an attitude like that? Ha! How boorish. Tell me, aside from Geralt, are all other witchers as without class? I do so hope it's just you."

"If it was any other witchers they wouldn't be here trying to make conversation with a monster in the first place. And I doubt you're gonna like what they'll be offering you instead."

"Oh, so you call this trying to make conversation?" scoffed Orianna. "I've met peasants that made more pleasant dialogue than you do."

Regis hadn't expected to finish his whole cask right there and then, but he really needed something to keep his thoughts sane. He kept thinking that perhaps given a bit more time that the two would actually be able to talk without arguing for at least a minute.

It had been more than two hours since he'd had that thought.

"Then maybe you should find another witcher that you can talk to?" said Eskel testily. "I'm sure it would be easy enough to find one. No? That's right. There ain't no other ones around, so you're stuck with me. Get used to it."

Orianna rolled her eyes. "If only it were so easy. I'd pray take another in a heartbeat."

"Pray all you like, but—"

The witcher's words were cut off as a sudden crash blasted through the wooden walls. Broken pieces of wood and junk scattered from the origin.

Regis coughed through the dusty smoke unsettled by the crash as he tried to find out what had happened. A groan could be heard somewhere under a pile of what appeared to be empty rucksacks that had been hanging from the ceiling.

"Oh man…" A familiar voice sounded from the pile. "What hit me?"

"Lambert?!" exclaimed Eskel in surprise. "What the hell happened?!"

Lambert picked himself up after Regis and Eskel helped remove the smelly rucksacks he was buried under.

"Failure in negotiations is what happened," he answered, pulling out his sword from the pile. "How come no one ever mentioned how tall she was?! Did that just happen to have slipped their minds? She's like a head taller than I am!"

"Who?" asked Regis.

"No…" Orianna trembled with fright. "It's her…."

From the broken down wall that Lambert had gone through, small footsteps could be heard approaching them closer. A figure of a gentleman in leather clothing of intricate and foreign design appeared before them. Wielding two different blades on each hand, the gentleman entered the room.

Stepping nimbly thought the debris with elegance and poise whilst carrying her sharp and deadly instruments at her side, Lady Maria stood before them, staring down at them all with a neutral expression. Her coat swaying slightly as she made her way.

"This hunt shall end here."


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: I own neither Bloodborne or The Witcher. This work is merely fanfiction, and as such, earns me no income whatsoever. Please don't sue me. I'm really poor.**

 **So here is a big update on this story. Hopefully this keeps everyone satisfied for a while. While I already have plans for the next part of the story, I might try working on my other stories, so it this one may not update until after then. Maybe.**

 **Anyway, this might not be as action heavy as people may be expecting. I also acknowledge that the ending of it may probably be frustrating for others because of what happens after all the teasing and all, but the story will continue. Also, don't forget to review and comment. I don't tend to answer questions in reviews, only sometimes, but you can shoot me a message if you really want an answer.**

 **Also, working on the new Scrivener beta on windows really made it much easier for me to type this all out. I just hope it doesn't break what I write when it updates.**

* * *

Maria braced herself. She dug her heels on the ground, her blades raised as she was pushed back by the Aard sign that the witcher used to push her away. As the force of the sign grew weak, she had to leap back when the long claws of a higher vampire almost cut through her neck. Regis snarled at her and tried to close the gap between them, however, after claw and blade clashed, it became clear to the vampire that her strength was not in anyway lacking compared to his. Once she was pushing him down, it became even more clearer that it was his own strength that was lacking.

Before he could be overwhelmed, Lambert came to his aid, slashing downward with his steel blade to separate the woman from him. As he got to his feet, he noticed that his claws, which were supposed to be harder than normal steel, was nicked by Maria's blades.

"Amazing…" he couldn't help but say.

Eskel came forward and brought his own sword skills into play against Maria. He twisted and twirled, moving his sword in such a smooth and deadly motion akin to a dance. However, each and every one of his careful and accurate strikes were blocked and parried easily, he himself ending up pushed back after blocking a heavy strike.

The battle had left little of the collection of warehouses around them. Most were shattered and broken, with whatever items they had in them strewn about throughout the dirt ground. Some of the larger pieces were even on fire, smoking and crackling. It had not even been two minutes and already the destruction around them was devastating.

At the beginning of the battle, they had managed to surprise Maria, who was unfamiliar with the witcher signs that Eskel and Lambert used against her. Their Yrden signs slowed her great speed, making it difficult for her to attack them, though she was now able to maneuver around the signs. It didn't take long before she was able to grasp around their other signs as well, adapting to them at a frightening pace as the fight went on. Against the vampires, she was a lot more accustomed to fighting, able to see through their movements that seemed to fast for the naked eye.

When Eskel used Quen to block her strike, she quickly drew her pistol and fired, causing the barrier to crack and collapse around the stunned witcher. He would have been impaled right there and then if it were not for Orianna stepping in slashing with her own claws at Maria, who deftly avoided them and took a moment to step back.

"Dammit…" groaned Eskel as he straightened himself up. "She's getting used to the signs."

"Tell me about it," agreed Lambert. "We've only fought for a few minutes and it already seems like she can predict our moves pretty accurately. I don't think Vessemir covered this in his lessons."

"We have to flee." Orianna acted more cautious and fearful than they did, never taking her eyes off Maria for even a moment.

"Why?" asked Lambert. "I'll admit she's a lot more impressive than I gave her credit for, but she's the one who's getting cornered."

It was true. Though Maria was fast and strong, incredibly so, taking on two higher vampires and two witchers at the same time was not to her advantage. Just as she'd been adapting to them, they too were slowly catching up to her movements. With them cooperating in their attacks, it wouldn't be long before they had her at the end of her ropes.

"You haven't seen her get serious as of yet," hissed Orianna. "Once she does, it will be more difficult for us to defeat her. Our advantage in numbers will diminish."

Maria relaxed and lowered her blades.

"Huh? Think she's giving up?" observed Lambert.

"Stop her!" Orianna screamed.

She flipped her blades in her hands, raised them up and pointed them towards her torso.

Surprisingly, Lambert and Eskel had both followed Orianna's command with no hesitation. They had both dashed in a burst of speed and quickly closed the gap between them and Maria, locking their blades just underneath the hilts, preventing Maria from pushing them down on her.

"Are you crazy?!" Lambert grunted as he pulled against her, his and Eskel's swords screeching against Maria's blades.

Using their arms as leverage, Maria flipped herself over them, booting Lambert in his face and narrowly missing Eskel's with her other.

"Fuck!" Lambert nudged his broken nose back into place with his free hand. "This is the thanks I get for saving her life? Talk about ungrateful."

Regis attacked Maria who was now flanked between them. He tried to stab her with his claws, almost touching her open back, though she spun on her heels and attempted to impale him on her blade. If Orianna had not yanked him back from behind, he'd have surely been done.

"Oh my…" Regis gulped after seeing a clasp on his tunic cut clean. "That would have been rather unfortunate."

"Try to be more careful, Regis," said Orianna. She turned to the witchers and shouted, "We can take her down as she is right now, but do not let her impale herself with her swords!"

The witchers didn't question her and simply nodded.

Maria leveled her blades at eye level, the edge of each facing two of her opponents as she could do nothing but wait as they inched closer towards her, trapping her. She threw one of her blades at Eskel, the witcher ducking down to avoid it. When the vampires moved to strike her, she took out a round bottle from her coat and threw it at them. The bottle struck the ground and burst into flames, causing the vampires to stop in their tracks. She then rushed the two witchers, feinting out Eskel with her blade and striking out instead with her free palm that laid the witcher sprawled on the ground.

Lambert signed Aard to push her back, however, she quickly stabbed her blade to the ground and held herself firm with both hands on its handle. Once Lambert saw her reach for her Evelyn once again, he quickly changed his sign to Quen to protect himself. With a bang, her quicksilver bullet collided with the magic barrier, shattering it as well but failing to wound him. She had expected it, though. She just needed it to distract it long enough for her to get close to him.

"Urrghkk!" Lambert struggled as Maria raised him by his throat with one hand, gripping tightly. As tall as she was, and with her strength, it was an easy feat for her.

"If you see yourself a hunter, then may you find a dream to which you hopefully wake," she said softly as she prepared to finish him off with her blade.

A flash of light and a thunderous roar broke out. Lambert fell back on the ground coughing, nursing his neck and wondering what had happened. He saw one of the houses beside him smoking and battered, in a state much like the warehouse he'd crashed through earlier was. Underneath the piles, he could see Maria's limp and unmoving body.

"No one chokes my witcher but me!"

"Keira?!" He was surprised as his lover worriedly rushed beside him.

The sorceress was quick to check on him, patting him from top to bottom, including his privates, as if she had thought they might have been missing for some reason. After a satisfied nod, she pulled his neck towards and ravished his lips. After that loving moment, their lips parted and she slapped him hard on his cheeks.

"Ow! What was that for?!"

"What happened with meeting up with the boys?!" she demanded.

"Uh, well…"

"Later, you two." Geralt walked up to them, Eskel leaning on his shoulder. "Business first, pleasure later. Regis, you two okay back there?"

The two vampires reverted back to their regular human forms. Regis looked quite happy to see him, whilst Orianna remained wary, keeping an eye on the spot where Maria lay.

"We're fine," said Regis. "A little singed but none the worse for wear. That molotov she used was most unusual."

"I shall be more than fine once I've dealt with her." Orianna brought her claws out and was about to go over and finish Maria, but Geralt stopped her. "What are you doing? Once she comes back to her senses, she'll not leave us be. Better to solve this problem, right here and now."

Geralt simply shook his head. "Can't let you do that. Our job is take her in alive."

"Are you mad, witcher?!" she practically screamed. Her eyes glowered in fury. "Have you any notion of how dangerous she is?!"

"Hmm… about as dangerous as letting a higher vampire walk away?"

That seemed to have put the fire out of Orianna. She simply drew a long breath, then regained her composure. Still, that didn't stop her from giving Geralt a hateful glare of disapproval.

"So…" said Eskel. He separated from Geralt and finally stood on his own feet. "What are we going to do with her? Not gonna be easy moving her out of here unseen. Those witch hunters are gonna be waiting for us. To check if we've dealt with the vampire problem."

"Yes," nodded Regis. "I don't believe they'll take too well to us hauling their unconscious guest right in front of them. We won't be able to move her without getting spotted. That is unless you plan on us forcing our way through them."

That action would put a whole slew of other problems for them. As bigoted and overbearing as they may be, the witch hunter order was still currently one of the most influential organizations spread throughout Redania. They may not have the best of reputations, but many people still see them as a force of good. Mostly by humans. Fighting them on the grounds of kidnapping a guest of theirs, who some folk had taken as a saint, while also helping in the escape of a higher vampire known to drink the blood of orphans… It certainly would not paint Geralt and his comrades in good light. They'd be persecuted and hunted down in every major city and village across the country.

"Wait. I got an idea."

Lambert had a mischievous smirk on his face. He was staring at the broken down warehouse where the others had stayed at before the fighting had demolished it completely.

Geralt frowned as he seemed to understand. "Don't tell me…"

"So it all comes back to this," Lambert chuckled.

* * *

"Settle down, folks. The slums will be quarantined for a little while longer. Be patient."

The witch hunters and city guards stood at guard over the perimeter they made around a section of the slums, trying to keep the people from getting close. Residents from the slums and other parts of the city were worriedly talking of the loud disturbance that had been happening ever since the soldiers had made the blockade. While the witch hunters had tried to suppress panic about information of a vampire hiding in the city, rumors of it had spread thoroughly among the masses, causing rising tensions among the people.

"What's going on?" asked one of the peasants. "Why did we have to leave our homes?"

"I have to get supper ready soon for my children," said a woman.

"Why are witch hunters here too?" asked another. "Does it has something to do with all the noise?"

Silas, one of the old and well-known city guard that patrolled the slums, addressed the crowd. Seeing him put the crowd at somewhat at easy, as he was, for the most part, better than the other guards that belittled the slum folk. He used to live in the slums as well, so they put a little more trust into him.

"There is no need to be alarmed," he said. "Just cleaning out a vermin that had made its way here. It'll all be over soon. We've specialists on the job."

The crowd murmured to one another of their thoughts.

"Vermin? What kind of vermin would need to quarantine a whole district?"

"Rat infestation maybe?"

"Specialists?"

"Witchers," spoke a beggar. "Saw two of them went in I did. Two swords on their backs and all."

The murmurings grew louder. Everyone knew what the appearance of a witcher meant.

"It's the vampire!" shouted a woman hysterically. "I heard them talking about it at the inn! It must be!"

"A vampire? In the slums?!"

"Should we really be here?! What if it escapes?!"

Rising panic soon started to spread through the crowd at the thought of the presence of vampires. The murmuring turned into noisy chatter, eliciting fear among the people. The guards and witch hunters, seeing them grow restless, tried to calm them down.

"Order! Order!" shouted Silas. He could see that they were close to starting a riot.

One of the guards shoved a man that had gotten too close.

"Everyone keep back if you know what's best for you!"

That action just caused the crowd to turn their fear and high-strung tension towards them.

"Why are you hurting him? What have we done to you?!"

"Aren't you guards? Why aren't you in there helping those witchers kill that vampire?!"

"Do your jobs and protect us!"

Silas could see his own men and the witch hunters grow agitated, some of them grabbing the hilt of their swords. He cursed inwards, already anticipating that even without the vampire there, someone would be bound to get killed. As much as he hated it, there were plenty among their ranks that thought little of taking the life of those in the slums. All it took was one hothead to pull out his sword for any sort of excuse and everything would turn chaotic.

Thankfully, it didn't turn out that way.

"What's going on here?" Geralt walked up behind them, leading ahead of Eskel, Keira and Lambert. The two witchers behind him hefted a large, dirty sack on top of their shoulders.

Everyone grew silent at their arrival. The guards and witch hunters pulled back to let them through, carefully observing them.

"Witcher?" Silas was relieved to see them. "Is it done? Have you finally killed it?"

"Dead as a doorknob!" Lambert patted the sack. "No more bloodsucking fiend here! Now, if you don't mind, we really have to get going."

Silas was relieved at the news. Even if the news of the vampire was already out, there would no longer be any panic or discord since the vampire had already been dealt with. He was about to order his men to make way through the crowds for them, but one of the witch hunters came up to them.

"Wait," he said, blocking their path. "We can take the proof of the bounty here. I dunno why you bothered bringing the whole body here, but it doesn't matter. We can escort you back to the captain afterwards to make claim on your reward."

Silas frowned. He really wished they would just do that somewhere else. He'd rather not see the grotesque figure of such a monster so near supper time.

When the witch hunter tried to pull the sack open, Geralt grabbed his arm.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he warned.

"Why not?" asked the witch hunter testily. "We have to make sure you killed it. You can't just expect us to pay without proof?"

"This one's a higher vampire."

"So what?"

"It doesn't die so easily. If you pull off that sack, it might just come back to life."

Silas backed away, and so did his fellow guards and those who were close enough to hear. The witch hunters looked worried, however they stayed where they were. He had to give them some credit for that. Although he could see that the witch hunter addressing the witcher had gone slightly pale.

"Just from pulling off… a sack?" he said, looking a little afraid and a bit more confused.

"It's a magic sack," said Lambert. "Put a little witcher magic into it that prevents it from coming back to life. Not for ordinary vampires. It's something that's been passed down by witchers of old, for the very purpose of handling higher vampires. You could try it if you want? But we can't make any promises we'll be able to put it down back again. This thing almost killed all of us fighting it at the same time."

True enough, Silas and everyone there could see that the two witchers carrying the sack looked to be bruised and battered. Given the loud and destructive sounds from earlier, none would doubt their story.

The witch hunter nodded nervously and backed down. Just the thought of fighting such a monster put all complaints on hold.

"Tell your captain that we can discuss the matter of our payment later," said Geralt. "We need to, uh, consecrate, salt, and burn the body before scattering its ashes over the sea. It'll take some time, but we have to take those measures to make sure that she stays dead. Doubt anyone here would want her coming back for revenge in the middle of the night."

"U-Understood." The witch hunter agreed quickly, even offering a salute. "Carry on proper, then!"

The witcher and his friends moved through the way Silas and his guards made for them, the crowd deciding to walk back quickly towards their homes instead of gawking. Likely they did not want to risk the chance of the vampire coming back to life with them around. Magical sack or not, it still looked like something that would tear apart at the seams at any given moment.

For a moment, Silas thought for sure he heard one of the witchers was chuckling as they passed.

When he turned to look, he only saw the witcher carrying the front of the sack groaning and nursing his side, the white-haired one beside him asking if his injury was bad.

"So witchers do care for more than gold," he muttered to himself.

* * *

Geralt stood on guard besides Maria as the others were tending to their wounds sitting not too far. Maria was left lying face up on cushioned bench, looking peacefully asleep. Although, she was breathing a little too quietly for his liking. Combined with her pale complexion, it made her look a little too much like a corpse. A very beautiful one, but a corpse nonetheless.

After leaving the slums, they carefully made their way to Keira's house. It was a bit more troublesome than he'd thought it would be. They still had to mask their movements, lest they were spotted by any city guards and witch hunters on the way. He preferred it if they they didn't spin any more tales about ridiculous ways on killing vampires. There was plenty enough of that as it is already.

As if garlic could make even the lesser ones hesitate. Maybe it would if it wondered why someone would throw garlic at it.

Keira's portal was located at the basement of her Oxenfurt abode, as most immobile portals are built to be. That in itself did little to calm the witcher's nerves about portals. Mages tended to put dangerous things underneath their homes—laboratories, experimental creatures, volatile rituals, and etc. Basically things that may explode.

"Are you sure she's alright?" said Geralt.

"She's fine," answered Keira. The sorceress was busy preparing the portal that would teleport them far from the city. "I've put her in a deep sleep. Nothing to worry over."

"I'm a little more worried she'll wake up," chimed Lambert. He was frowning at the cuts in his leather armor. "I don't like our chances here in this basement if we had to fight her again."

"Rest easy your poor little minds," sighed Keira. "While I may not be an Oneiromancer, I know how to put someone to bed with a few spells of my own. She won't be getting up anytime soon. Not unless it's from a true love's kiss anyway."

There was a low hum as the circular device whirred to life. An orange sphere of light appeared in its center, pulsing.

"There we go," smiled Keira. "It takes some time to warm up, though. Should be ready in a few minutes. I just need to queue in our destination afterwards and we'll be able leave."

"Finally." Orianna stood from where she stayed in the corner, eyes looking relieved since she and Regis met up with them on the way. "As much as I enjoyed my time here in Oxenfurt, I can say that I am damned well pleased to be leaving it."

"You'll still need to flee the country," said Geralt. "The witch hunters will most likely confiscate any and all your possessions in Redania. Probably going to investigate every single known connection you have here to make sure they're not monsters in disguise."

"Please," she scoffed. "The only one's such they are likely to catch would be my lawyers. And as for my possessions… I have far more than what I have here in Redania or Touissant. I can live comfortably anywhere, even if I had to cross the sea. Living for as long as I have, one tends to accumulate wealth without even knowing. Once we our out of the city, I shall consider our bargain to be fulfilled."

"And what about you, Regis?"

"Hmm?" The curious higher vampire was occupied examining Lady Maria's items that were spread on a table. "Oh! Yes, of course. Orianna and I have chatted about on our way here, and I shall be accompanying her for the time being. She was gracious enough to accept me as her guest in wherever pleasant vistas she has."

"It's hard to say no when you insist on lecturing me the ways of abstinence…" she said. "If I trusted my self control a little bit more, I would have gladly left without your offer. As much as it shames me to admit, I may fall back on my word if temptation where to arise."

"Give it time," said Regis confidently. "You'll lose the inhibition after a decade or two. It took me longer than that, but I believe in your strength of will to overcome it."

"I feel so assured…" Orianna gave Geralt a look of exasperation.

The witcher tried to hide his smile by pretending to look over the items on the table. His eyes wandered onto the elaborately crafter sheath of the blades. He traced the artistic swirls etched into it, smooth and well polished. It was exquisite without being extravagant—the quality of its craftsmanship surpassing even those of royalty. He hadn't seen anything quite like its design in his travels. Elegant like the ancient works of the elves, but a little too closer to simple and not overly complex to be impractical.

"Don't take it out." Regis stopped him from unsheathing it to take a closer look. "The smell of it—It would be hard for me to bear in this place without windows."

"It's smell?"

"Her blood," answered Orianna, her nose slightly wrinkled. "She uses it to coat her blades. It reeks entirely of it."

"What's wrong with her blood?" laughed Lambert. "Not to your tastes? Thought a saint was like a rare and expensive wine to vampires?"

Orianna was hesitant but said, "It's just… wrong. There was something to it that I don't even dare to imagine."

"Wrong?" Eskel raised a brow. "It can't be that bad."

"I have to agree with her," said Regis, pushing the blade aside. "What traces of it left makes me uneasy. Worse than the black blood potion you witchers used. Poison would be a far easier drink."

"Hmmm… what about the rest of the stuff she has?" said Geralt. He picked up Maria's pistol. "Looks like one of those fire sticks the dwarves had been working on. Never actually saw one that didn't blow up, though."

"You'll have to see to them yourself," said Regis, stepping away from the table with a frown "All her implements give off various but much the same scents. I had wished to inspect the concoctions and such, however, even standing in the same room as these feel like it's making me ill. You don't mind us waiting up stairs, will you?"

Both higher vampires left for fresher air, leaving just the witchers and Keira in the basement. Eskel, who had still been warily watching Orianna, snorted.

"You trust her to keep her promise, Wolf?" he said as he chewed on a jerky.

"I trust Regis to keep an eye on her," answered Geralt. "And he will."

"And what about her?" he gestured to Maria's still and quiet form. "We didn't get much instructions aside from delivering her to the elf and those sorceresses. What are they even going to do with her?"

"They haven't quite reached a consensus on that," answered Keira as she continued to prep the portal. "There are arguments to what must be done with her, however all agreed that she not be left alone. Levels of consequences varied from the eradication of a size of a simple village to the catastrophic destruction of an entire country. It might be that they've managed to reach an agreement while we were away, but I suppose we will find out once we return."

That didn't sound encouraging. Geralt had been skeptical about the contract from the beginning, but if that was what Yeneffer and Triss had also believed to happen, then he couldn't just sit on it. Ciri had also been pleased with the job, so it made it even harder to turn down. She had commented that it has been too long since they all last worked on a contract together, what with her working mostly working in the northern realms. Her visits were seldom, and she always had to take care not to be seen. Touissant was, after all, still a territory of Nilfgaard. Emhyr var Emreis, the emperor of Nilfgaard and her father, would most certainly react badly to her miraculous reappearance.

"Wonder what's she dreaming about?" he said, examining Maria's face.

"Must be something nice if she can sleep like that," said Lambert. He squinted his eyes over the pulsing light from the portal. "I wouldn't be able to with all this light and noise down here."

"It's a pleasant dream, no doubt," said Keira. "Sleeping spells are far more effective when the casted upon feel reluctant to wake from them."

True enough, that while they continued their conversation, Lady Maria was dreaming. She dreamed of a time long past.

Memories she held dear and tender.

* * *

For what reason or whom did she decide to pick up her blade, she did not even remember. Her life before becoming a hunter was trivial and not worthy of remembering. She had lived as a citizen of Cainhurst—highest nobles of society. Proud, virtuous and strong, they stood at the top while proving themselves with conduct that befit their status. True nobles worthy of their titles.

When the beasts scourge started, Maria was one of the first of them to do something about it. She had sought out a man who'd been successful in slaying the beasts. To learn from him. In order to remove the creatures that caused so much suffering to the people.

She remembered the first time they met. Outside his workshop she waited for him. He arrived tattered and beaten after taking the head of a beast, covered in blood. She, dressed in her old garment, clean and pure as a noble lady of her house should. They stood apart and stared at one another.

"I wish to become a hunter," she finally said.

He didn't turn her away like she thought he would. Neither did he comment that she shouldn't. He simply walked past her towards his workshop and said, "Well, what are you waiting for? I have much to teach you."

There came others with similar intentions. No matter their background, Gehrman did not turn them away. And thus, the first of old hunters were born. He was the first hunter, and they were his students. They learned, they hunted, and they died. So many of them did. It seemed that no matter how many they slew, or how many they slaughtered, more and more beasts continued to appear.

So many of his students did they bury. Many he himself whose grave he dug.

Watching him do so caused an ache in her heart that pained her so.

She had wondered if one day if he would do the same for her. Thoughts of her own death did not bother her. However, she would regret it if he wept for her. Will he stand above her corpse one day with such sadness in his eyes?

"You are talented," he once said to her in the workshop. "Frighteningly so. By far the best of my students."

She had, in her life as a noble, long gotten used to praises. Even among the other Cainhurst—even Annalise herself—would give her praise. She heard it frequently from those she saved and other hunters as well. But hearing him say it? She had not felt such elation in a very long time. It was the first time she ever heard him say so. Not once had he done spoke of her such until that day.

"Which will make your fate all the more worse if you continue on this path…"

He warned her of the fate of such exceptional hunters like her. Like him. Death, if they are offered such mercy, will come slowly for them, with each passing second a curse that haunts them till then.

To hear him speak with such defeatism… it did not suit him.

"Put down your blades and lead a quiet life," he said to her almost pleadingly. "Find someplace far from all of this. If you go now you will still be able to leave all this madness behind you. Wash away the blood."

That was the first time she had truly touched him, cradling his morose face softly in her hands, her steady eyes gazing into his. She saw him then. Truly for what he was. More than a hunter. More than the first of their kind.

"…And what of you?" she asked. "What will become of you?"

"I will be here…" he said, his head turning to look over the workshop. "Always I will be here. To guide hunters in the never ending hunt. My fate has long been decided."

"Then, I wish to do so as well."

He turned his face away from her, holding onto her hands shakily, drops of water dripping onto the ground. For once, he shed tears not for the dead but for the living.

"Please keep me by your side," she said to him as they kept their heads close to each other. "For as long as you need me."

He held her hand on his cheek and whispered, "Always."

It was a day of firsts for her.

It would also be the last time they would be together. Before the tragedy and nightmare began…

* * *

"What's this?"

Lambert shook a strangely shaped vial containing red liquid in front of him. The witcher had, unlike the vampires, no problems with going through Maria's items and equipment.

"Huh. I wonder if it's something like a witcher potion?" he said.

He stared at it closely, eyes furrowing. Witcher potions were made through alchemical preparations, meticulously done by witcher themselves. So all witchers are also considered experienced in the ways of alchemy and are familiar or at least somewhat knowledgeable in regards to such items.

"It kind of looks like… blood?"

"Probably shouldn't touch it," warned Eskel. He looked apprehensively at the vial.

"Relax," scoffed Lambert. "It's probably just something like medicine or something. I'm just going to open it and see."

"Don't think you should do that," said Geralt. He was still standing over Maria, making sure nothing out of the ordinary happen. "We don't know for sure what it is."

"Lambert, dear," said Keira. "I know how curious you can be, but I've told you before that it is very rude to look over a woman's personal effects. Remember what happened last time? I still haven't gotten all the smell out of my lab from that."

"You're all being too uptight," he said. "Sleeping beauty over there isn't going to mind. I'm just going to pop off the cap and give it a whiff. I just want to know what it is."

The cocky witcher pulled the cap off the vial. Immediately the overpowering scent of blood spread out from it. The smell was so strong, one didn't need the enhanced olfactory of a vampire to know what it was. However, every single one of them could tell that there was something very different about it. Something very wrong. He'd capped it no more than a few seconds after opening it.

"Lambert—!"

Geralt had been about to admonish him when he felt something grip his arm. He looked down just in time to see Lady Maria open her eyelids suddenly. The next thing he knew he felt himself weightless, right before crashing into Eskel.

"Aw, hell!" Lambert had been about to sign Aard, however Maria threw one of the wooden chairs at him before he could. The rather expensive looking chair that had splintered from the impact with his head hadn't even fallen to the ground yet before Maria kicked him hard in his abdomen.

Maria stepped back swiftly, a white-hot blast of lightning passing through where she had stood. Her eyes locked on to Keira. She vanished like the wind, appearing just suddenly in front of the sorceress who had been preparing to unleash another spell.

"Oh, no you don't!"

Eskel slammed into her before she could do anything. He managed to push her into the pulsing ball of light of the portal that had been behind her. When she had made contact with it, the portal whinnied at a high pitch, sparking as if it were about to explode. Then there was a bright flash of light. Afterwards, the light and sounds slowly began to fade, leaving no trace of the hunter.

The door upstairs crashed open, Regis and Orianna appearing in their savage forms.

"What happened?!" snarled Regis, scanning the aftermath.

Everything had happened so quickly that it was hard to say where to start.

"Lambert's fault," said Eskel as he steadied himself on his knees.

"How is it my fault?!"

"I second that." Geralt dusted the dust over him. He frowned at the portal. "Told you to leave it alone. Keira, where is she?"

"Let me see…" Keira went to a stone slab with glowing runes on it next to the portal.

The portal suddenly sparked all over, and then, like most things put in a mage's basement, blew up. Small pieces of rock and metal flew around the room. Fortunately it was a rather small explosion, with just the portal itself left in a mess and smoking.

"Well…"

Keira rose up slowly after she had ducked away, coughing slightly.

"I believe that answers your question."

* * *

The commotion over at Keira's home did not go unnoticed. It was hard not to. The explosion had been heard by everyone on the street. They could also see the black smoke coming out of the house. With how tense the situation in the city was because of the vampires, it didn't take long before the city guards and witch hunters had arrived on the scene.

Geralt, as much as he'd thought he wouldn't have to, told them that the special ritual they had done was to permanently kill the vampire. He had to explain to them the process of it in detail before he could convince them of it, but eventually, all parties involved had come to believe it. Now, he just had to hope that no one would be stupid enough to use it on a higher vampire someday. Fortunately, he doubted there were many people that could ever even know how to find one.

There was at least one thing to come out of his false story, though. With the threat of the vampire now gone, Regis and Orianna would have an easier time getting out of the city. And with the threat of Maria gone, Orianna was content with patiently waiting for the city to slacken its guard as before so that they could leave unhindered.

Meanwhile, Lambert and Eskel were busy helping Keira sort out the mess. The sorceress was fuming at the loss of her portal, giving Lambert quite the earful for his carelessness. Geralt heard her mention something about a megascope crystal or something that caused his fellow witcher to turn as pale as Maria. He wasn't sure he really wanted to know.

As Geralt was about to enter the house again to help, a young man came up to him.

"Ho there," he greeted. "You be the witcher, Geralt of Rivia?"

"Who wants to know?" asked Geralt.

"Just a messenger," answered the young man. "I've a message for you." From his pouch he handed Geralt a letter. "A guest at the inn you and yours are lodged with—he asked me to deliver it to you."

Geralt opened the letter, reading it.

"Damn…" He crumpled it in his hand. "It's just one thing after another."

The witcher told his friends of an important matter he had to settle and left for the inn. The streets were lively and boisterous. News of the vampire's death seemed to have spread all over the city, as everyone appeared to be celebrating. He had to stop more than a few times, people thanking him and pushing him to join them in their celebrations. If he wasn't dreading with what's to come, he would have found it funny how quick the people were to forget how they used to treat witchers like him.

Once he arrived at the inn, he saw that the inside was in a similar jovial mood as the streets. Everyone was drinking and eating to their hearts content, sharing stories and conversations loudly all over the entire building. He could hear people from the upper floors toasting and shouting their cheers.

"At least everyone else seem to be doing well," he mumbled.

Over by the tables, at the center of the inn, he saw the person he was looking for.

Geralt made his way through the crowds, stopping right in front of an open seat on the table that already had a mug of mead waiting for him. The table was completely free, which was strange given that the inn was packed full of customers. Only a single man sat at the table, drinking from his own mug. He raised his in gesture to the witcher's arrival, as if he was expecting him, lips curling into a smirk.

"Gaunter O'Dimm," muttered Geralt distastefully.

"The one and only," said the merchant of mirrors. "It has been a long time, Geralt. Come. Please, have a seat."

The witcher did not do so, at least not immediately. He spent a good minute staring at the man—demon or some other. Last he saw of him was after he had beaten the demonic being at his own game, saving his and another's soul from whatever plans he'd had for them. Seeing that there didn't seem to be an immediate danger or hostility, Geralt finally sat himself down.

"Didn't think to see you here," he said, still on his guard. "Didn't think our next meeting would be over a drink either."

"Expect the unexpected," smiled O'Dimm. "Though, I'm sure you've known we would meet again. After all, I did say I would be back. And what's wrong with getting together back for another round of drinks? Doesn't it remind you of our first meeting? A great deal noisier and better wine, but countryside food was better to my taste."

Circumstances had led the witcher to questioning him on the whereabouts of his beloved many years ago. Though, he long suspected that their meeting at that inn long ago had been more than chance. He wasn't so foolish to think that this time would be any different.

"What are you after, O'Dimm?"

"Just a friendly conversation for now, witcher," answered the merchant. He raised his hand, a tavern wench came over and dropped a plate of food on the table. "It has been a while after we last spoke, and contrary to what you believe me to be, even I enjoy idle chatter with someone every now and again. Especially so after enduring a long period of travel."

"And that someone just happened to be me?"

O'Dimm chuckled. "Ever so skeptical, aren't we? I suppose that's how you managed to stay alive all this time. Believe it or not, I would have been quite disappointed if I had found out that you had died before we managed to meet once more."

"Oh, I believe that," said Geralt. "Only because I know that you probably had plans of your own for me."

"I'll admit," the merchant raised his palms, "As I made my way back here, I took to passing some of the time with such thoughts. Only passing thoughts, you understand? Nothing more than fancies now, I assure you."

Though Geralt didn't show it, he was very worried about what O'Dimm had been concocting as revenge against him. He knew the merchant to be a powerful being, one that had lived far longer than any monster he'd ever encountered before. Devious and cruel in his imagination and actions. He wasn't so sure he'd be able to beat him like he did before.

"Still wary, I see," said O'Dimm as he chewed through a turkey leg. "Would it reassure you if I told you that I am in a very weakened state right now?"

Geralt raised an eyebrow.

"Not enough for you to kill me, of course," he chuckled, not the least bit worried of the witcher's consideration of killing him right then. "Though enough that I am unable to fulfill any such fantasies that I'd planned for against you. At least not for another decade or so. Banishment from a realm takes quite a bit of hassle to undo."

"So you're vulnerable?" To which O'Dimm nodded in response. "You telling me that doesn't make me feel any better. In fact, it just makes me all the more suspicious on what exactly it is you want from me?"

O'Dimm snapped his fingers.

The entire inn froze and went silent. The entertainers playing their instruments were still as they stopped in the middle of playing their music, customers with their mouths half open as they were eating, a baguette broken in two hung in the air after a woman smashed it over a touchy peasant's head. The Master of Mirrors wasn't as vulnerable as he'd made himself out to be.

"We'll need a bit of peace and quiet for what we are about to discuss," he said. Putting down his drink, he looked at Geralt seriously. "I want what you want."

The witcher frowned as he was unsure of what he meant.

"You are on a quest," continued O'Dimm, "Always on a quest even to this day. No plans on ever retiring? Nevermind. We both know the answer to that. The important thing right now is the one that you are on. You're quest on seeking the Lady Maria."

"Why do you—?"

"She's far more dangerous than you or your friends realize, witcher. Not for her skills, mind you. Though, she is quite an exceptional fighter, wouldn't you say?"

O'Dimm picked up a slice of pie, examining and sniffing, right before he suddenly threw it behind his back, which only froze in midair.

"Saw what happened, did you?" snorted Geralt. "I bet you enjoyed that?"

"I most certainly would have, but sadly, I had to miss it entirely. I was only there for the aftermath. Which was indeed a little satisfying, seeing you picking up the pieces and going on with your little charade with the witch hunters."

"Would've thought you had taken prime seats?" wondered Geralt.

"Front row seat, up and center, if I was able to, yes," admitted O'Dimm. Casually, he tossed the peel of a banana somewhere behind Geralt, but it froze in the air much like the pie. "Due to my current state of vulnerability though, I dare not risk it. Which ties in to the object of your quest—bringing the hunter back with you to see your elven sage. On that, I wish to help you with. I'll even add my own payment to your contract."

He coughed lightly before sitting with his back straight and his face solemn, O'Dimm said, "I swear to you, Geralt of Rivia, White Wolf, witcher, that I, Master Mirror, Man of Glass, Gaunter O'Dimm, shall not take any action of vengeance nor bring down willful misfortune upon you and those dear to you should you fulfill your contract thus spoken."

There was a rumble. The air around them seemed to vibrate and pulse, even though all around them continued to be deathly still. Red colors grew vibrant and glowed. The light glared. Geralt's witcher medallion rattled in its chains around his neck so much that he thought it would shatter. After a few seconds, everything settled down and all was normal once again. Normal in the sense that everyone else all around them was still frozen in place like before.

"How's that?" smiled O'Dimm.

It was strange. The witcher didn't doubt the seriousness of the vow he had just took. He could feel the words actually bind the merchant. A deep and powerful promise that was true as the light of the sun. There was no twisting around it. He would honor his word, or he will no doubt truly be defeated and destroyed once and for all. By his own words.

"Why?" the single word that encompassed every complex emotion and thought the witcher had on the offer given to him.

"Don't tell me a witcher such as yourself have never heard of looking a gift horse in its mouth?" said O'Dimm. "Your lady—I can point you the right way. All you need do is complete your contract as you planned on doing so anyway. No additional measures or promises. Just do as you had intended to. For that, I am merely speeding things along."

Geralt was silent for a moment, considering.

"What do you know of her? What is she really?"

For the first time, Gaunter O'Dimm seemed to have difficulty finding the right words to speak.

"A hunter of beasts," he said with grim seriousness. "Not of this world. She is an anomaly—one that may bring even further havoc if not removed. Worse than war. Worse than plague. You've no reason to believe my words, but I trust you are more receptive to your friends in the lodge, who have a small inkling of the consequences and agree. The sooner you capture her, the better it is for everyone."

"And that includes you?"

O'Dimm nodded. "That includes me. If I'd known that this would have happened, I wouldn't have bothered coming back here. Now, I have no choice but to rely on you once again, weakened as I am. I can do little but hide and wish you luck on your contract."

"Afraid?" asked Geralt disbelievingly. "You? I admit she's strong, but I didn't realize she'd even make you scared."

O'Dimm gazed at the witcher.

"It is not her that I fear," he answered. "I fear that which she may bring. As should you."

He clapped his hands and the world turned once more. Music and noise shattered the silence, hustle and bustle continued to spread from the boisterous crowd enjoying their meals. A drunken uproar of a fight began as patrons fought over a thrown pie landing on someone's head. A nobleman had slipped on a banana peel and accidentally grabbed onto a lady's bosom, causing said lady's husband, a very muscular and ill-tempered man, to toss the offending nobleman towards a rowdy bunch of dwarves, further spreading the disturbance throughout the inn.

"As should everyone…"

The sudden break of the silence and eruption of chaos momentarily overwhelmed the Geralt's senses. Once he'd shaken it off, he looked up to find the merchant of mirrors gone from his seat. The only trace left of him was a single folded parchment on the table.

"Show off," the witcher grumbled.


End file.
